


Cleaving

by AtoTheBean



Series: A Bleary, Hopeful Universe [6]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Adoption, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Disney World & Disneyland, Frottage, Hospital Visit, M/M, Making Plans, Relationship(s), Rimming, Sightseeing, Wedding Day, Wedding Fluff, christmas break, christmas in july, filming stress, more tags as we progress, perceived infidelity, referenced original character death, reunion after a long separation, single parenthood stress, surprise paper work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 71,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtoTheBean/pseuds/AtoTheBean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cleaving: to cling (to), to remain faithful (to)</p><p>Cleaving: to part or split, especially along a natural line of division.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Very special thanks for the help I got from Tinywife for alpha reading and cheering, and @Punk and @Nixhaw for fabulous beta reading and hand holding. This one made me nervous, and you all helped so much. I continued tweaking, so any remaining errors are my own. Also, this is part of a series, so if you haven't read "A Bleary, Hopeful Shade of Blue" you might want to start there. This fic will likely reference things from many of the previous ones.

“What about the Pack-and-Play?”

“Mom has one. And a highchair.”

“The Christmas presents? Did you get the ones under my side of the bed?”

“All nine of them.”

“But are you sure—”

“Chris,” Zach said, running a hand through his hair and tugging at his bangs. “I’ve been over the lists a dozen times. Everything’s packed. The car is coming in five minutes. We’re ready.”

Chris chewed his lip, shaking his head slightly as he looked around the room. Sighing, he said, “I know. I mean, I’m sure you have everything. I’m just used to helping. And I just got back from London yesterday and I don’t even know what time it is, and—”

Zach moved forward, wrapped an arm over Chris’ shoulder, and pulled him closer as Chris’ words faded and his head bowed to rest on Zach’s shoulder.

“I know, baby,” Zach whispered into his hair. “But I’ve got this. And you said you were looking forward to a white Christmas...I promise I’ve got it handled. Just one more plane. It’s going to be great. You’ll see. We’re going to have a such a good time.” Zach all but willed it to be true.

Chris looked over at the pile of suitcases. The littlest one was purple with dinosaurs on it, and Nathan was telescoping the handle up and down. He looked up at them, face beaming with the joy of discovery and accomplishment.

“Babbo! Airplane!”

Chris huffed a laugh, wrapping an arm around Zach’s waist and squeezing before moving toward their son. “That’s right, buddy. And I think this will be much more fun than my plane ride yesterday. I’ll have my favorite boys with me.” Chris rallied a smile as he picked Nathan up and flew him around foyer like an airplane. But Zach couldn’t miss the exhaustion showing around his eyes. Zach worried his lip, wondering if his brilliant idea of leaving L.A. for Christmas was really such a good one, after all. But his mom was so thrilled they were coming for Christmas, and Nathan was excited by the prospect of snow. And Zach needed his roots right now; he couldn’t face another 68-degree Christmas.

Just as he was locking the door behind them and setting the alarm, Chris called out, “Did you pack Gustafer?” Zach froze at the sheer horror of leaving town without Nathan’s favorite stuffed animal. He quickly unlocked the door and dashed inside.

It took five minutes to find the pointy-headed yellow creature from the sun, but Chris had probably just saved them hours of bedtime misery. Even if they missed their flight, it was worth it.

They checked in at the curb of Terminal 2, and Zach was relieved that people were focused on their own travel and largely ignoring one more family with too much luggage. Zach could take the public’s interest in their lives in stride, though he tried to protect Nathan. But Chris hated the attention and would close himself off. And he’d felt closed off for weeks now, both on Skype and the phone. Zach definitely wanted to minimize anything that would make it worse.

Everything was going well until they got to security and the officer inspecting their documents asked Chris to remove his sunglasses. She hadn’t even really looked at him yet, but then did a doubletake at their names. Zach could feel Chris stiffen beside him as she looked at each of their faces, eyes widening. She hastily looked down to write something on their boarding passes — that mysterious purple lettering that mere mortals couldn’t interpret — and then turned to the third boarding pass.

“You must be Nathan,” she said, obviously pushing aside embarrassment to focus on the child in Chris’ arms.

He smiled broadly. “I go airplane!”

“You certainly are,” she said, writing more purple lettering. “Is it your first airplane ride?”

“No,” Nathan answered with a furrowed brow. “But I was _baby_.”

She smiled at that, handing the boarding passes and IDs back to Zach. “Well I hope you enjoy this trip, Nathan.”

Nathan’s smile turned shy and he buried his forehead into Chris’ neck while keeping his eyes on the petite brunette. “You pretty,” he said, clearly enough for the people behind them to hear.

“Oh my god,” Chris muttered with a grin back to Zach.

“He’s a hopeless flirt,” Zach told her as a means of apology.

“Well, he made my day,” she said with an open laugh. “Merry Christmas, gentleman.” And with that she waved them through.

Chris was back in stealth mode — hood up and glasses on — though it's hard to be completely stealth with an excited child toddling beside you, holding your hand. They got settled next to a window where Nathan could see the airplanes from Chris’ lap. Zach went to get coffee and breakfast, and when he returned, they were in deep conversation about why there were no purple airplanes.

“What’s going on?” Zach asked as he passed coffee to a very grateful Chris.

“He wants to make a rainbow,” Chris said, taking a sip.

“Ah. Yes, we’ve been working on colors while you were in England: car rainbows while driving around town. Red is easy, and there are a shocking number of orange cars on the roads of L.A., but purple often trips us up.”

“No purple,” Nathan said with an exaggerated sigh, and Chris recognized it as a rehearsed line and smiled.

“What colors are on our plane?” Chris asked, refocusing Nathan’s attention on something positive.

Nathan stood on his lap to get a better view, and Chris slid a hand around his back to steady him. Something slid back into place in Zach’s heart as he watched Chris and Nathan whisper together. Chris had been on location for weeks, and it was hard on all of them, but especially Nathan. Skype and time zones were just difficult concepts when you were still in Pull Ups. Zach had worried that Nathan would be shy around Chris upon his return, especially as the Skype sessions started to drop off near the end. But it seems that they had slid into their comfortable rapport again. Which was great. Really great, Zach thought as he double-checked their carry-ons and waited for boarding to start.

The good thing about flying first class is that by the time people boarding recognized Chris, they were on their way past and couldn’t bother him. The bad thing was that there were only two seats on each side of the plane, so once they fastened Nathan’s car seat next to the window, he found himself across the aisle, watching Chris and Nathan pick the books they were going to read and movies they were going to watch during the flight. Nathan’s pile of books would take at least fifteen hours. The flight to Pittsburgh was five. Chris looked across the aisle at him and raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve trained him well,” Zach said with a laugh.

“Story, Babbo,” Nathan called, proving Zach’s point.

Chris turned toward Nathan to ask which he wanted to hear first, and that was the last time Zach felt Chris’ attention for several hours. Chris and Nathan spent most of the flight with their heads together, reading. Once Nathan dozed off, Chris curled in against his carseat, stroking his hair lightly until he fell asleep himself. Zach watched from the short distance, a book open but unread in his hands, noting all the subtle changes in Chris’ face. He was pale, and there was an air of exhaustion about him that Zach didn’t like. He hoped that two weeks with family would help rejuvenate him. And make the two-foot aisle between them feel less like a gulf.

*** *** ***

Driving up the street to his mother’s house felt like some strange time warp. He was sure the colored lights strung up around the roofline were the same ones they’d had during his own childhood, washed-out warm colors looking like faded Polaroids next to the vibrant cool colors of the neighbors LEDs. And though his inner ecohipster knew he should prefer the more efficient, blue-tinged modern lights, those large, soft incandescent bulbs felt more welcoming.

His mom was out on the porch before he’d even finished parking in the driveway, giving them each a hug before relieving them of Nathan so they’d have both arms to carry in the luggage. Nathan was chattering away with her as if he visited all the time, and Zach was suddenly very grateful that his mom had learned how to Skype so she wouldn’t be a stranger to her grandson.

“Oh fuck me, it’s cold,” Chris said as he met Zach at the back of the car to help bring in the luggage.

Zach snorted, biting back the suggestive comment he would have normally made and handing Chris a bag. “Aren’t you glad I talked you out of flip flops for the flight?” Because really… Chris could be ridiculously So-Cal sometimes.

“They would have been fine for the flight,” he said with a grin. “But we would have had to amputate toes after the walk to the rental car.”

“We can’t have any harm to come to your feet,” Zach said, thinking of the many times that innocent foot massages on the sofa had turned intimate. “Or your dainty ankles.”

“I have very manly ankles,” Chris protested, sounding more defensive than usual. Zach turned to look at Chris’ face, trying to decide if he was just cold and grumpy or truly upset.

Unsure, Zach nodded in acquiesce and headed for the door.

The house smelled of basil, rosemary, and oregano… aromas that Zach associated with Christmas, but Chris probably didn’t. Zach heard the customary “What dat?” as he passed through the living room to the stairs. Looking to his right he could see Nathan propped on his mom’s hip, peering into the dishes on the kitchen counter.

“We’re up here,” he said back to Chris, trundling up the narrow staircase. First door on the right, and...exactly how it looked when he was in high school, except for the double bed where his long twin used to be. He knew it would be the same — he’d seen in the past that his mom hadn’t changed either of their rooms — but it was still jarring, being faced with design choices he’d made at sixteen. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring at the collection of posters from various 80s and 90s musicals before he heard a quiet, “You okay?”

Zach turned to see Chris’ concerned look. “Yeah. Just… suddenly accosted by every teenage insecurity and angst I ever experienced. I feel like I might get pushed into a locker, or have to explain to Father Michael again why I’m not coming back to the church.”

Chris dropped the suitcase on the bed and wrapped an arm around Zach’s waist pulling him close. Zach felt warm breath against his cheek, and something loosened in his chest.

“We could still go get a hotel, if it would make you more comfortable. I don’t want you stressed over Christmas.”

Zach dropped his own bags and wrapped his arms around Chris’ shoulders, reminding himself that he was _not_ 17 and just discovering that he was really much more attracted to narrow hips and broad, solid chests than he was to soft curves, despite being taught that it was a mortal sin that would land him in Dante’s eternal fire. He _wasn’t_ trying to hide bruises from bullying at school, and wondering if anyone would ever love him for who he was. He was a father, and was currently in the arms of a man that accepted and loved both him and his son. A man whom he loved and to whom he was engaged...whatever other uncertainty there may be. _And_ he had friends. _And_ a career. His life was already more full than he could have imagined the last time he fell asleep staring at his _Rent_ poster.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, glaring briefly at the room, daring it to prove him wrong. “You’ve been living out of hotels for a month. And Santa needs a chimney to come down. Besides, my mom is so happy we’re finally staying with her. She wants to show Nathan off to all her friends, and her Nonna-time means we can have some time to ourselves, as well.”

“Staying in one place for a week or two sounds great, actually.” Chris’ voice was thick and weary, now that Nathan wasn’t in earshot. “My body has no idea what time zone it’s in right now.”

“I know,” Zach said, squeezing him tighter. “I’ve packed you a bunch of books and your camera, and we have _no schedule_. I want to show you a few sights, if we can fit it in between your naps. And maybe teach Nathan how to build a snowman and go sledding if we get enough from tomorrow’s storm. But other than that, we’re just resting.”

“You’re tired, too,” he whispered. “I left you as a single dad for a long time.”

Zach shook his head. The last thing he wanted was for Chris to feel guilty while trying to work. “We were fine. I mean, we missed you like crazy, but we managed.” Zach winced and hoped that Chris wouldn’t take that as them not needing him. Hopefully, a few days with nothing scheduled would give them a chance to get comfortable together again. It felt like they were both being so careful, and Zach hated it. He couldn’t remember their relationship ever feeling forced, except when he’d first introduced Chris to Miles and seen a shift in his expression that he hadn’t understood at the time. They’d usually just fallen back into a rapport after months apart. But this was their longest separation since Nathan had been born and they’d moved in together. And after finishing each other’s thoughts for nearly a year and a half, the distance of self-sufficiency now felt strange. Even their banter felt forced when Nathan wasn’t the center of the conversation. Zach didn’t like it, but would never dream of asking Chris to not take projects. After all, he was working hard, too; he just had the luxury with the production company of keeping the travel to a minimum. He knew what it was to be an actor, and that such concessions were rare. “I’m glad you're back, though.”

Chris squeezed him one more time, and then straightened up, putting his hands in his pockets and shivering against — the cold or separation, Zach couldn’t be sure which. “I hope it does snow. If it’s this cold, I think it should at least be a winter wonderland.”

“You’ll get your wish. Our white Christmas should begin within the hour. Let’s get the rest of the bags before it starts.”

*** *** ***

“Daddy! Nonna mades ‘zangya!” Nathan cried as he and Chris finally made it into the kitchen.

“I can see that,” Zach said, laughing. “You’re wearing half of it on your face!”

Nathan shoved another large piece in his mouth as he mumbled, “It yummy.”

“He said he was too hungry to wait for you,” Margo explained as she turned to give Zach another hug. “Now which would you boys like? Bolognaise or seafood with rosemary cream sauce?”

“I’ll take the bolognaise. Better give Chris the seafood. He needs fattening up.”

“You really do look thin, dear,” his mom said as she turned to hug Chris, who was rolling his eyes at Zach from over her shoulder.

“There’s a conspiracy, I see,” Chris answered. “Guess I’d better have some of both. If I catch hell from costuming when I get back to the UK, I’m giving them your number,” he said, giving Zach a good-natured jab.

“I think they’ll thank me, actually,” Zach said, not liking the way Chris’ pants were slipping off his hips. What the hell had that shoot done to him?

Chris turned away sharply, looking hurt.

Zach cursed himself. “Just, you really do look like you’ve lost weight. Have they had to adjust costumes mid-shoot?” Zach didn’t say anything about the lines around Chris’ eyes and mouth. He didn’t want to overwhelm Chris with worry when he clearly hadn’t gained his footing yet.

Chris relaxed and shrugged slightly, sitting and leaning back as Margot put a plate in front of him. “It’s the English food, I think. Not tempting enough to break through the exhaustion at the end of the day.” And that didn’t sound right at all to Zach. The idea of Chris Pine not eating was deeply disturbing. Like finding out that gravity hadn’t been working properly for the last month. “They’ve just had me wear more layers of long underwear, which I was grateful for actually. It wasn’t as cold as it is here, but it was wet, and we were outside all day. I feel like I haven’t been really warm for ages. It wasn’t as bad as filming Hours, but I felt like...who’s that princess who walks in the snow?” he asked, turning toward Nathan.

“Elsa,” he answered between bites of lasagna with an air of authority.

“Right. Like her.”

Margo was biting back a grin and placing a plate down for Zach when Nathan’s brow furrowed.

“Babbo, Elsa no get cold.”

Zach sat down with a snort, watching Chris gape for a minute and then turn to him with a raised eyebrow. Zach shrugged. “She really doesn’t. She’s not your Disney Princess match.”

“Damn, guess I’ll have to keep looking.” He took a bite and groaned happily in a way that bordered on inappropriate in front of his mother. Margo laughed again and placed a dish in front of Zach, motioning for him to dig in.

“How _is_ your movie going, dear?” Margo asked Chris, pouring wine for them all.

Chris’ smile lit up, and he finally looked like his old self. “It’s going to be great. We’ve had some technical setbacks with all the rain, but the shoot itself is going really well. My co-star, Gal, is just fantastic. I’m just there to support her and help her character shine.” Zach took a bite and tried to ignore the jealousy blooming in his chest. “She’s going to be such an amazing role model for girls. I’ve been thinking about that a lot, lately, you know? If Nathan had been a girl, whom would we hold up as cool, complex female characters that he — she — could look up to? There are more now than there used to be, but they are still rare. Rey from Star Wars is supposed to be great — Zach, we need to sort out when we can see that — and I really think Wonder Woman is going to contribute to that list. So my job is to show that Steve Trevor can be rescued without it becoming a threat to his masculinity, or something to apologize for, or some sort of joke. He’s a strong man, he supports her, but he’s mortal and has mortal failings and would _not_ make it without her.”

It was the longest speech he’d heard Chris give on his character since he’d left for England. It was comfortably familiar — the sort of conversation that they’d had about characters throughout their friendship. But it also made Zach uncomfortably aware that they hadn’t been talking like that since Chris had left. Probably even before that, actually. Zach hadn’t been asking these very basic questions, and he felt oddly out of step.

“Gal is really fun, too,” Chris continued, souring Zach’s thoughts further. “She keeps the cast laughing.”

“That’s usually your job,” Zach said, his voice sounding strange even to his own ear.

Chris looked at him mid-swallow and gave a small, awkward shrug. “I haven’t needed to as much because she’s already charming everyone into being happy on set.”

Zach looked down at his food, suddenly not as hungry as he had been.

“Did she get to go home, too?” Margo asked, seemingly oblivious to Zach’s discomfort.

“Her family came to the set for the last two nights of Hanukkah, but I don’t think they’ve gone back to Israel during the break. She mentioned something about Portugal. I honestly was so focused on coming home that I didn’t pay that much attention.” That made Zach feel a bit better.

Conversation shifted to Christmas and plans for vacation, and whether Nathan had been good and expected presents from Santa. Chris finished his plate, declaring it the best meal he’d had in a month. Nathan managed to get red sauce in his hair, so Margo took him upstairs for a bath while Zach started the dishes.

“Let me help you,” Chris said, startling Zach with his closeness. “And do we have the recipe for the seafood lasagna? Because we need it… we definitely need it.”

Zach chuckled. “I’m pretty sure we do. I’ll have to pull it out next time I need you in an agreeable food coma. Speaking of,” he said, looking sideways at Chris as he swayed on his feet, “I’m not sure vertical is a good choice for you at the moment.”

Chris scrubbed his face and looked around the room. “What time is it?”

“Sevenish.”

“So that’s,” he counted under his breath, ”three in the morning.”

“Or five in the afternoon.”

“I never had time to get on Pacific Time; I just took a nap there. I should try to stay up a little longer though. Otherwise I’ll never acclimate.”

Zach tilted his head, taking in the dark smudges under Chris’ eyes and the pallor of his skin. “I don’t know. You look like you could sleep ten hours straight. This isn’t a press junket. There’s no reason you need to shift time zones all in one day.”

“Yeah, but it feels like a waste to be in the same house with you and be in different rooms.” And that was nice. Zach clung to the words and let them reassure him.

“I’ll come to bed early. Just, you know, after Nathan’s bedtime.”

Chris chuckled ruefully. “I’m so old.” There was resignation in his voice.

“You’re not,” Zach said, finally turning fully to Chris after drying his hands. He reached out to touch Chris’ hips tentatively, and was relieved when Chris moved forward and relaxed into an embrace. “But you’ve been running ragged, and you need to recharge. So recharge.”

“Okay. I’m not going to be good company anyway. I may as well. Tomorrow I have snowman-building lessons.”

“Maybe. We definitely have to wrap presents. Do you want me to come up and help you find your stuff?”

“S’okay. My toiletries and sleep pants are in my carry-on. Can I unpack the rest tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Just pile the suitcases up in a corner so I don’t trip on them coming to bed in the dark. And leave my carry-on on top.” He started to pull away, but Chris squeezed him with a bit more force. Then he framed Zach’s face with both hands and kissed him. It wasn’t a passionate kiss — it was practically chaste — but it tasted of comfort mingled with weariness. Zach just hoped he wasn’t the cause of the latter.

“Good night,” Chris mumbled against his skin. He stumbled out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Zach heard him head into the upstairs bathroom, playing “dolphin trainer” with Nathan while he brushed his teeth and washed his face. It was so familiar, the low rumble of Chris’ voice and Nathan’s bright squeals coming through the walls — now mixed with his mother’s laughter. It was so perfect. He wanted _so much_ to luxuriate in the sound. To relax into it, feel it as a balm for the stress of the last month. To _trust_ it.

He finished cleaning the kitchen and went upstairs in time to help get Nathan into his jammies.

“You ready for bed, Little Man?”

“How many stories?” he asked sprawling out his fingers to indicate a preference of five. He looked like a Teletubby in his extra-thick yellow feetsy pajamas. Or like Gustafer, who was held tight in one of his arms.

“No. Babbo read to you for hours on the plane. Nonna can read you one story,” Zach said, folding Nathan’s fingers so only the index was pointing, “and then it’s bedtime.”

“I sleep Nonna?”

“Yes, but you have to actually sleep. If you try to talk to her or sing, we’ll have to put you in an empty room.”

“Be good,” Nathan said with a slight furrow of his brow, clearly imitating Zach’s no-nonsense-dad voice.

“That’s right. Be a good boy. Santa is coming soon. Okay, give me a smack,” he said, puckering up.

Nathan pressed a very exaggerated, loud kiss against his lips. “And squeeze.”

“That’s right, and a squeeze,” Zach answered, wrapping both arms around his son and swaying softly as they hugged. “How many stories?”

Nathan grinned impishly hand held out five fingers again. Zach silently raised an eyebrow, and Nathan giggled, lowering all but one finger.

“Just one. Then you sleep and Nonna comes downstairs. Okay?”

Nathan nodded and wrapped his arms around Zach’s neck again. And Zach savored it, closing his eyes and memorizing for the thousandth time the simple pleasure of their uncomplicated and utter devotion to each other. “I love you, Nathan.”

“Love you, Daddy. Babbo?”

“He's already sleeping. He kissed you earlier, remember?. And he’ll be here in the morning.”

“Nonna?”

“I’m right here, sweet boy. Let's cuddle on my bed to read.”

Zach left them to it, heading downstairs to pour himself another glass of wine and try again to read the book he’d ignored on the plane.

Thirty minutes later his mom came downstairs.

“That was a long board book,” he said, smiling.

“My hand may have slipped and picked up more than one.”

“Hmmm. Nonna’s prerogative.” He handed her a glass of wine.

“Indeed,” she said with a sly grin, nudging his knee so he scooted over on the sofa. He slid to one end so she could sit beside him. “He is the sweetest of boys, Zachary. You and Chris are clearly doing an amazing job. _And_ he’s the smartest one-and-a-half-year-old I’ve ever seen. His love for books…”. She shook her head in mock disbelief.

“Chris’ influence,” Zach said with a proud chuckle.

“Not _just_ his, but yes.” She patted his knee like she had when he was a boy and whispered conspiratorially, “All the other grandmas are going to be _so jealous_.”

Zach barked a laugh and downed more of his wine. It was nice. A rich Cab that seemed to melt against his tongue and warm his soul. Or maybe that was the company.

“And how are you, dear? You look tired, too.”

Zach shrugged. “I missed him. And being a single dad is hard work. Nathan’s not a difficult child, but when you’re the only one around to give him the attention he wants it can be a bit exhausting. And I still had work. But we got it done.” Zach smiled and looked at his mom.

“How’s work going for you?”

“Good. It’s good. I have two projects finishing up now and another starting next month. But it’s nothing like Chris. As a producer I just have to go down a few days a week. Other people are doing the daily work. Chris, though — he’s straight out.”

“He looks so tired.”

Zach shook his head. “He’s really good with boundaries in some ways, and really bad in others. And he’s always thrown himself into roles. Given projects his absolute all. But I think after the interview...after he came out...he expected things to dry up. So when they _didn’t…_ he felt really blessed. But he also couldn’t say no to anything. Like, he was afraid he would jinx it. And they’re great projects. He doesn’t want to say no. But I think he thought his career would naturally slow down a bit because of the announcement, and it just hasn’t. And he doesn’t want to take it for granted.”

“So he’s running himself ragged.”

“Yeah, a bit,” Zach answered, pausing to take another sip of wine. He’d been thinking about this a lot, but articulating it was still a struggle. “When he’s home, I think he relies on me to keep him balanced. He has an excuse to tell people ‘no’ because he needs to get home to his family. But being on location, he’s probably breathing the script 24/7. It’s like he refuses to take care of himself if he’s doing it just for him. But I’m not sure I should be pointing this out. I don’t want our dynamic to become me nagging him. He might start hiding things from me then.” More than he was.

His mom looked thoughtfully at the wine in the glass swirling it a little to help it breathe. “Balancing home life and career is never easy. I’m sure he’ll get a better handle on it. I just hope it’s before his health forces him to. I imagine it’s hard with the wedding preparations, too. Have you boys set a date yet?”

Zach grimaced before he could stop himself, and his mom’s expression turned concerned.

“Zachary?”

“No. I’ve been trying, but no, we haven’t.”

“You’ve been trying?”

Zach ran his hand through his hair, tugging on his bangs and he pushed them back. “To set a date, you have to choose a venue. The good ones in L.A. are booked out sometimes more than a year in advance. So far, Chris hasn’t liked any of the ones I’ve suggested. So until I find something he likes, we’re in limbo.”

“What sorts of places are you suggesting?”

“Oh, things with some visual interest. You know how Chris likes architecture and is always taking pictures of cool buildings. So, Taglyan Cultural Complex, the Omni Hotel, Greystone Mansion, Shade Hotel. I have a colleague that offered the enormous yard of his Malibu house with a view of the ocean. They’re all nice places and plenty big to invite whomever we wanted, but he’s basically told me no hotels. He doesn’t want to get married somewhere we might have been to a Gala together. Nothing that even tangentially has to do with work.”

“Well, that’s reasonable, I suppose,” Margo said.

“Yes, but since I’ve left the church, and he’s half Jewish and not particularly observant, we don’t have a lot of options outside of hotels.”

Margo studied her wine some more.

Zach nervously attacked his hair again. “We’ve made progress on other fronts. Chris was really enthusiastic about designing the rings. He even asked Robert for a family ring so we could combine the metal with Dad’s. He was more active working with the jeweler than I was, and they turned out — well, they’re upstairs in the luggage. I brought them to show you how perfect they are. And then this other time we were getting fitted for a couple of Brioni’s — that’s a suit label — for an event, and he practically forced me into a chocolate brown three-piece he spied in the corner. And when he saw me in it, he told me it was _exactly_ the sort of thing he wanted me in when he married me.” Zach didn’t mention the look on Chris’ face, which _still_ gave him butterflies to remember. Or that Chris had pushed him up against the wall of the dressing room and said the words into his mouth between kisses. Or that Zach had _obviously_ bought the suit clandestinely, as well as a similar one for Chris in a golden tan that complemented his coloring. Just in case.

“Well, that's promising,” his mom said, though something in her tone still sounded concerned about cold feet. Or maybe he was projecting.

Zach shrugged at the wall, taking another sip of wine. It had been six months since he’d asked Chris to marry him and he’d answered enthusiastically and without any hesitation. Zach was sure it seemed like an eternity to his mom, but in their busy lives, six months slipped by almost without notice. Maybe Chris’ enthusiasm dimmed as other parts of his life demanded more attention. Maybe he really did just hate the idea of a hotel ballroom. But regardless, if Zach was worried about Chris having cold feet, he certainly wasn’t going to discuss it with his _mom_.

As if noticing his internal struggle, his mom shifted the conversation to safer topics — details about Zach’s upcoming project, places he wanted to show Chris while they were in Pittsburgh. The wine slowly disappeared and conversation started to wane. Outside, the snow began to fall, illuminated by the soft warmth of the Christmas lights.

“Father Michael wants to meet Nathan, if it's possible. I know you probably aren't interested in going to the church—” Zach gave her a pointed look. “— but I was hoping I could take him to the St. Stephen’s Day celebration. It's not a full mass, and my friends would get to see him without me having to invite everyone here and disrupt your rest.”

Zach scrubbed his hand down his face. It would allow him to show Chris around and have some time alone with him, and from the stories he’d heard, his mom’s friends weren't particularly judgmental. At least not as judgmental as the dogma he’d rejected years ago. Nathan would just think it was a strange old building with pretty windows and Nonna’s friends. “I’ll need to talk to Chris about it in the morning, but it’s probably fine.” He felt a sudden, misplaced longing for those cool, masonry walls and streams of jewel-colored light. For a time when simple answers still made sense and right and wrong could be gleaned from a book.

“Thank you, dear,” she said, patting his knee and getting up. “I should get to bed, too. I think Nathan will be keeping me busy the next few days.”

He kissed his mom goodnight and watched her climb the stairs, waiting for her bedroom door to close and the hall to be plunged into darkness before turning out the downstairs lights and carrying the last of his wine to the window. The snow was falling more heavily now, coating the rental car and winter foliage, swirling blue grey against the dark sky. If this kept up, there would definitely be enough to play in tomorrow. Zach grinned and took his last sip of wine.

Upstairs he found that Chris had actually moved both toiletry kits into the bathroom, saving Zach from having to dig through his suitcase in the dark. He couldn't help but smile as he brushed his teeth. It had been over a month since anyone had made a small thoughtful gesture like that. He’d almost forgotten that they were normally part of his daily life. God, he had missed Chris. Just that small, considerate act made Zach feel it to his bones. How _managing_ without Chris wasn't nearly as nice as _living_ with him had been. And he hoped would be again.

Zach knew that it was natural for distance to infiltrate even healthy relationships; he’d had enough therapy over the years to know that things couldn’t be sunshine and rainbows all the time, and intimacy ebbed and flowed. He _also_ knew that he’d missed signs in the past that things were not as copacetic as he’d thought. Miles was just the latest in a series of relationships that he had thought were going well, only to find that he’d been projecting and not paying attention to the signs that things were slowly failing, and by the time he was aware there was a fatal problem, Rome was already in flames.

He washed his face and removed his contacts and took a look at his face in the mirror. It wasn’t as weary as Chris’, but it also wasn’t as carefree and happy as it had been even four months ago. The lines around his eyes were just a little deeper, his stubble just a bit more grey near sideburns and mouth. It didn’t bother him, not really. He would face the indignities of aging happily with Chris by his side. It was the fear he would lose Chris _too_ , while facing the inevitable slippage of time, that caused a twist in his stomach. He wasn’t sure he’d recover. Wasn’t sure he’d ever have the faith to open up to someone again. They’d been together just over a year. Historically speaking, that was about how long his relationships lasted before they started unraveling, and despite his efforts to knit them back together, he always ended up with a mass of tangled threads.

He didn’t think that was happening between he and Chris. He remembered the OUT interview, saying that because they had been such good friends for so long their communication was better and he wasn’t falling into that same trap. But that was before Chris starred in back-to-back films on location. That was before this awkwardness crept into their conversations, and he kept rejecting the locations Zach had considered for their wedding.

That was before a particular picture had loaded on his dash.

He crossed the hall in the dark and entered the bedroom using the light from his phone as a dim flashlight. He was ready to scavenge through his carry-on for his sleep pants and t-shirt, only to find that Chris had thoughtfully placed them on top of his bag. He turned to look at the bed. Chris was just visible, a slightly darker shadow in the dark room, his breath making soft snuffling sounds as he slept. Zach loved those sounds. Loved the way that soft rhythm used to calm him and lull him to sleep. As he undressed in the dark, body memory itched to snuggle up behind Chris and feel his skin and get closer to those little snuffles, until he could feel the breaths play at the hairs of his arms or chest. Until he could feel Chris’ warmth sink into him, all the way to his bones. And more still. Zach ached for Chris. Not just to feel Chris’ warmth, but to feel Chris drag the heat from deep inside him until they were both sweating and panting and incandescent. It had been over a month since he’d been touched by anyone other than himself, and Chris had made no move to really touch him since he'd been home. Granted, there'd been no time when Chris was conscious and Nathan wasn't, and it had just been two nights, but after longing for him for a month, it was hard not to read rejection into it.

Zach carefully got into bed, trying not to wake or even touch Chris. It was harder here than at home. The bed was more narrow than the California King they had in L.A. Even all the way on his edge of the bed, he could feel the heat coming off Chris’ skin. He lay on his back staring blindly at the ceiling, listening to those little sounds that pulled at him like gravity. His phone was still in his hand, pulling at him in the other direction. With a sigh, he resigned himself and swiped the screen, squinting against the almost violent light as he navigated to the appropriate photo album. There was just one picture, grainy and clearly taken from a distance and enlarged. Chris and a woman, presumably his co-star, judging from the costumes they were wearing. Zach couldn't be sure because her face was obscured by the clearly _passionate_ kiss they were sharing. And Zach was sure that there was plenty of cause for Chris’ character to kiss Gal’s character. But there were no cameras in the shot. No mics. No lighting that made it appear they were filming.

He turned off the phone and set it on the nightstand, sighing again as he stretched an arm up over his head and around his pillow. Confusion and warring emotions pricked at his eyes. He ached, but not in the way he had before. Felt cold despite the warmth coming from Chris’ body. He wanted to believe it was nothing, was tempted to pretend he’d never seen it and just wrap himself around Chris and welcome him home. But darkness and doubt were poor company on lonely nights, and he was afraid of repeating the mistakes of his past.

It took more than an hour for the soft rhythm of Chris’ breathing to send him to sleep.

When he woke, he was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gustafer Yellowgold is a character created by NYC artist Morgan Taylor. There are indie songs, videos, and yes, stuffed animals of the little yellow guy, and if you are a parent of a toddler and despise Barney, this is truly the best present I could ever give you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Punk and NixDucky for being my betaing this over (literally) months. It took so long to write and grew so long I decided to split it, so the good news is that the next chapter is half finished. And I think we all know the pictorial reference for the first scene...

Zach stretched and arched and turned onto his side, extending an arm into the empty space beside him, completely _not_ testing the temperature of the sheets on Chris’ side of the bed (cold, almost icy). He tugged the comforter up over his shoulder, warding off the chill in the room. Daylight was definitely peeking through the blinds, and he should probably get up. But after being a single dad for a month, he couldn’t quite pass up the luxury of not _having_ to wake with Nathan. Knowing he had back-up to take care of his son’s early morning needs felt absolutely decadent. And despite the empty bed, he was inclined to enjoy it.

At least until a jubilant squeal followed by a deep rumble of laughter made him feel like he was missing some fun.

He rolled over and squinted at the clock. 8:30. So 6:30 at home. Not devastatingly early, he thought with a broad yawn, but he definitely required coffee. He hoped his mom was stocked up.

Zach dug through his suitcase for a sweatshirt and socks to wear with his sleep pants. Either his mom just liked to keep the house cool, or she needed more insulation. Or he had been in California too long and was becoming a wuss.

He opened the door just as Nathan squealed again, and Zach followed the sound of giggling and smell of coffee down the stairs until he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Chris. Chris, who was wearing a huge blue parka, purple gloves, a _fur_ hat that might have been Joe’s at some point, _two_ knitted scarves, jeans, and... _flip flops_. Zach bit back a laugh and leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching Chris put on a very confused “thinking” look while Nathan was practically breathless waiting for him to say something.

“Mmmm, no. I’m still cold.”

Nathan threw his head back laughing and then ran over to Margo, who was holding another scarf and laughing herself. This one was mustard yellow, and Nathan grabbed it with glee. Chris leaned down so Nathan could place the scarf over the back of his neck. Nathan was giggling so hard it took three tries, and then Chris straightened up and looped it around his neck.

“Babbo warm?”

“Hmmm. I should be. I have a hat,” he said, placing both hands on his head, “gloves, a coat, three lovely, warm scarves.” All the while he was wiggling his toes in such an exaggerated way Zach was surprised he didn’t lose his balance. He tapped his chin thoughtfully and said, “Still cold,” much to Nathan’s delight.

Zach was now laughing quietly, too, marveling at how comfortable Chris was being a ham. He did it for the camera, singing on talk shows and laughing about high school photos, and he was _always_ willing to do it for Nathan. Chris was shy in a lot of ways, but he was always very ready to laugh at himself. Zach had decided long ago that it was a trait he should try to emulate, though he found it much more difficult. Biting back another chuckle, Zach watched as Nathan literally shook with laughter in that full-body way toddlers invest themselves in everything. When Nathan spun around to run back to Margo, he spied Zach in the stairwell.

“Daddy! Babbo no socks!”

“I see that,” Zach chuckled.

“Babbo silly.”

“He certainly can be.” He couldn't help the fondness that suffused his voice, or the warmth in his smile as he watched Chris start to peel off the layers, the game apparently over. He was flushed, either from being overheated or being caught out by Zach. He gave Zach a sheepish, almost shy grin, and Zach’s heart clenched. He looked better. The shadows under his eyes were less severe, and his expression was actually animated for the first time since he’d returned from England. He looked like himself, finally.

“You sleep okay, dear?” His mom’s voice pulled him from his reverie.

“Um, yeah.” He took a few steps in her direction. “That bed is great, actually. What did you think, Chri—”. But Chris had left the room, Zach found when he turned. Huh. Turning back to his mom he added, “It's really comfortable. We just might need another blanket if the temperature keeps dropping.”

“They’re still kept at the end of the hall.”

Zach nodded as a mini-linebacker crashed into his shins and hugged them with one arm, holding up the teal scarf with the other.

“Daddy cold?”

“Sure,” he said, running a hand through Nathan’s hair and smiling down at him. “I like the red one better, though.”

Nathan ran to the pile of clothes to retrieve the red scarf while he and his mom shared a smile.

“Daddy wear socks?”

“Of course,” Zach said, lifting his sleep pant leg slightly to expose the thick woolen socks.

“What about you, Nathan?”

“Nat’an feetsies,” he said, pointing to his pajama-covered toes.

“Oh good,” Zach said, picking his son up and rubbing their noses together as he gave him a hug. “So are you cozy?”

“Yeah.”

“Sleep good?”

“Yeah.”

“Hungry?”

“Nope,” he answered, rubbing his nose against Zach’s. “Babbo mades ‘nana cakes.”

“Banana pancakes? Really?”

Nathan nodded and sagely added, “They yummy.”

“I’ll bet.” Just then Zach startled, feeling a hand wrap around his hip from behind.

“I made coffee, too,” Chris said, coming around to his other side and holding out a mug that smelled absolutely heavenly.

“My hero.” Zach gave his customary response and let Nathan shimmy back down to the floor as he accepted the mug. “Oh god, that smells fantastic.”

“And we saved some batter for you, so I can make you fresh pancakes as well.”

Zach smiled and took a sip of his coffee to hide his pleasure and relief at not being excluded from the morning festivities. “Thank you. It’s always so awkward to be jealous of your own kid.”

Chris huffed a laugh and pulled him closer, kissing his cheek and surprising Zach with the easy affection. And it was nice, if a tad confusing. He took a moment to just enjoy it. But as Chris’ thumb slipped under his shirt and caressed the skin above his hip, Zach stiffened and pulled away, that zoomed-in picture flashing abruptly through his mind. He forced himself to relax and smile at Chris — now was definitely not the time for this discussion — but judging from the hurt and then wariness in Chris’ expression, Zach’s stumble hadn’t gone unnoticed. By his mom, either, if her intense look was any indication.

“Tickled,” he murmured, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on Chris’ cheek, hoping that would soothe him for the time being.

It seemed to work. “Hungry?” Chris asked.

“For fresh banana pancakes? Always.”

Ten minutes later he was pouring real maple syrup over an aromatic stack of weekend goodness. Chris refreshed his coffee and then sat across from him, nursing his own mug. When Zach took his first bite and hummed almost orgasmically, Chris just grinned and took a sip of his coffee, lowering his eyes and looking almost coquettish. But Zach knew better than to think it was an act, which honestly just made Chris all the more appealing. As it always had. Chris acted for strangers; in his personal life, he was pretty straight up. Which made the current situation all the more confusing.

“When did you get up?” he asked, to distract himself both from how good Chris looked and how much they needed to discuss.

Chris grimaced. “Four. I’m surprised I didn't wake you. I made a racket as I got out of the bed and rummaged for clothes. But I knew I'd wake you up if I stayed; I was so restless. And you need rest, too.”

“And somehow flip flops were what you ended up with?”

Chris grinned unapologetically and shrugged. “I couldn't find my slippers, and at least with the flip flops on I didn't have to touch the arctic floor tile in the bathroom. Plus Nathan got a kick out of them once he noticed.”

“When did he get up?”

“Five-thirty.”

“Ouch. Poor mom.”

Chris shrugged again. “I offered to take him and let her go back to bed, but she wouldn't hear of it. Something about sleeping once her Nonna duties were over and we were out of the state. So I cooked.”

“And she just let you rummage through her kitchen and take over? She really does love you more than me.”

Chris blushed slightly at that and took another sip of coffee. After a moment he said, “Snow’s been coming down all night. Looks like we have a foot so far.”

Zach turned to look out the window. It was still coming down hard. “I hope Mom has plenty of wrapping paper. I’d rather not have to venture out in this.”

“She said she had everything we need. I haven’t checked myself. I don’t even have a really good idea of how much wrapping paper we need…”

“An insane amount, compared to what I remember from my childhood. And I couldn’t prewrap anything because of how the airlines are now. But it’ll be fine. We’ll do Nathan’s first.”

“Yeah. If we run out, I can just use some Sunday comics for yours.”

Zach laughed, saying, “I do love the classics,” before taking the last bite of pancakes.

As excited as Nathan was to go out in the snow, Zach knew they needed to get settled and unpack all the snow gear before heading out. And as early as the boy had woken up, he was already yawning by 9:30.

“Snow daddy!”

“Not yet. We need to wait for it to stop snowing before we can go play. Otherwise we’ll get too cold. After lunch. After your nap.”

“I not tired,” he said through a yawn.

“Uh huh. Tell it to someone else. You want to be good for Santa, don’t you? He’s coming tonight.”

Nathan looked like he was going to argue and thought better of it.

“Guster?”

“Let’s find him so you can nap.”

Once they found Gustafer and set Nathan down in his Pack-and-Play, the daunting task of unpacking became paramount. It soon became clear that wrapping presents in Zach’s old room was not going to be possible. There was barely enough room to move once the suitcases were laid out, much less space to make stacks of gifts and spread out paper. So they decided that Chris would bring the presents downstairs to the kitchen table, while Zach stayed upstairs and put their clothes away. It took a number of trips, but Chris finally ran out of gifts to bring down, and he stayed in the kitchen to start wrapping while Zach finished putting their things away and nested the suitcases, storing them in the bottom of the closet. After twenty minutes, Zach looked around the room, deeming it livable for the next two weeks.

As he made his way into the kitchen, he startled Chris, who quickly put something behind his back.

“What’s that?” Zach asked, suspicion flaring.

“Nothing.”

Zach raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing you can see until tomorrow.”

A Christmas present. For him. Jesus, what the hell was his problem? Zach ran a hand over his face and smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, do you need me to leave for a minute?”

“Just close your eyes while I put it in a box,’’ Chris said, reaching behind him to a stack of empty boxes Margo must have supplied along with the wrapping paper and tape. Zach closed his eyes and listened to tissue paper rustling followed by a scrape of cardboard.

“Okay, it's safe now.”

Zach opened his eyes, wishing that were true. He sat across from Chris, well aware of the minefield, whether it was real or imagined.

“What can I get started on?”

Chris gave him a stack of gifts for Nathan and two types of wrapping paper. “This one is just for things from Santa,” he said, holding up a roll of red and white striped paper. “Otherwise, anything goes.”

They wrapped together for about forty minutes, passing scissors and tape back and forth between them and discussing how Nathan might react to the gifts while Tony Bennett sang Christmas songs via the stereo in the living room. The whole time Zach silently debated how to bring up the picture. He didn’t want to ruin Christmas. He really didn’t. And finding out that Chris was keeping secrets from him — or worse — that was the sort of knowledge that could really ruin it. But having it hanging over him was no picnic either, and part of him just wanted to be put out of his misery, one way or another. If the picture was nothing, he’d have a much more enjoyable holiday _not_ fretting about it. But his mom’s presence in the house was not really conducive to a serious conversation, especially one that might evolve to a fight, and Zach could hear her moving things in the living room, carrying things upstairs, constantly on the perimeter of their awareness, until she finally just entered the kitchen and poured herself another cup of coffee.

“Can I help with anything, boys?”

“I think we’ve got this covered, Margo,” Chris said, but he still cleared at spot at the table for her as she moved to sit down.

“Well, I’ll just keep you entertained then,” she said, setting a stack of photos on the table. The top one showed Zach with a bowl haircut and wearing a green and red striped Garanimals shirt and red corduroys.

“Ma, no.”

But it was too late. Chris caught a glimpse of the top photo and grinned up at Zach with a gleam in his eye. Zach tried halfheartedly to grab for the picture, but his mom was quick, handing it to Chris for his inspection.

“This is great,” he said with glee. Looking up to Zach’s grimace, he added, “Oh, come on. You’ve seen dozens of my childhood photos and heard more embarrassing stories than I even remembered existed during all the family dinners at my mom’s. It’s only fair.”

Zach couldn’t really argue that. And though he wanted to be annoyed, there was something about seeing his mom and Chris practically conspiring around his childhood kitchen table that struck him as charmingly domestic — never mind the half-wrapped presents. He huffed his approval, reaching for the scissors as his mom asked, “Has Zach ever told you about the year he set a trap for Santa?”

By the time the presents were wrapped — no comics needed — Chris had heard the Santa trap story, the a tablespoon-of-salt-is-not-a-teaspoon-of-salt-sugar cookie story, multiple crying-on-Santa’s-lap stories (to which Chris was able to add the stories from Nathan’s first Christmas), and the _pièce de résistance_ , the Zach-rode-his-new-bike-into-the-tree-and-it-fell-on-him story, complete with a picture of Zach on the floor covered in tinsel. Chris was literally begging Margo to stop because he couldn’t breathe for laughing so hard, and Zach was laughing at Chris’ reactions. And god it felt good. They packed the gifts into grocery bags and took them upstairs to hide in a closet. By the time they’d showered and changed into jeans and sweaters, Nathan was calling that he was done with his nap.

“Hey Little Man,” Chris said as they retrieved him from the Pack-and-Play. “”You ready for some lunch?”

“Pizza?” Nathan asked, allowing himself to be picked up by Zach and laid on the bed for his diaper change as Chris arranged supplies.

“I think Nonna is making tomato soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches.” Chris helped him clean Nathan up and put everything away as they continued talking. “Then, after you eat a good lunch, maybe we can go outside.”

Nathan’s eyes widened. “Snow?”

Zach nodded. ”But you have to eat your soup first.”

Getting his two California boys ready for the snow was nothing short of hysterical. Chris insisted on Nathan wearing so many layers that the poor kid could barely move his arms. His little cheeks were flushing pink as Zach looked down at him and said to Chris, “This is reminding me of your favorite holiday film.”

Chris looked up from putting on a third pair of socks and glanced at Nathan. “It’s not that bad,” he protested.

“Nathan, clap your hands.” He could, but his range of shoulder mobility was clearly compromised. Zach raised an eyebrow at Chris.

“I might have overdone it,” Chris admitted.

“Ya think, Mrs. Parker?” Zach shook his head, smiling, and motioned for Nathan to come over to him. “Let’s fix this, okay?”

“Nat’an poofy.”

“Yes. You really are.”

They got outside after about fifteen minutes, all jackets and mittens and slivers of skin showing between the bottom of hats and the tops of scarves. Nathan moved carefully, placing his weight on the new snow then looking up, concerned, as his foot sank several inches before stopping. He tried a few more times, growing more confident as he learned to trust that his foot _would_ stop sinking in a somewhat predictable manner, trying to stomp his feet to see what happened, his smile growing wider. Zach loved watching Nathan discovering things about the world for the first time. It was trite, maybe, to glean joy from a child’s innocence, but he often felt so jaded himself that it was a relief to share these simple discoveries. Judging from the sounds of the shutter going off behind him, Chris was enjoying the moment, too. Finally, Nathan looked up at them both, grinning.

“Snow squish.”

“Yeah,” Zach said, leaning down to pick up a handful. “You’re pushing all the air out from between the snowflakes. It’s called packing it. Like this.” Zach formed a snowball and held it out on his hand for Nathan, who picked it up gingerly. “Now it will hold together when you throw it.”

“Throw ball?”

“Here, I’ll demonstrate,” came a voice from behind them. Zach startled as a small snowball exploded against his shoulder. Nathan’s eyes grew wide as he realized what had just happened. Zach winked at him and took the snowball back, lobbing it at Chris’ butt as he turned to protect the camera.

“Carefu!”

“Men holding $4000 cameras shouldn’t start snowball fights,” Zach said, sagely, making another snowball and handing it to Nathan. “Go get him,” he stage whispered.

Nathan lowered his head and started running toward Chris with the snowball at his shoulder ready to throw. Chris let out a small “eep” and was frozen with indecision for a second before raising the camera to his eye and getting off several photos of Nathan approaching. Just as Nathan reached him, Chris held the camera over his head to protect it from the snow shrapnel that flew in all direction as Nathan slammed into him, smashing the snowball against his parka.

“You got me!” Chris cried, scooping Nathan with one arm and spinning him before placing him back on the ground and saying, “Now go get Daddy!”

Nathan turned and started running back to Zach, getting halfway there before remembering that he needed snow. He stopped to bend down while Chris and Zach shared a look and a smile over his head, and then he was barrelling toward Zach again, both hands full of loose snow as Chris took pictures.

“Got Daddy!” he cried as he pressed the snow into Zach’s leg.

“You did!” Zach said, picking him up and tossing him in the air before snuggling him close. “But I think we should call a truce. We have a snowman to make, and we should get started if we want to get it done before it starts snowing again?”

“We make Olaf?”

“Hmmm, let’s just try to make one and see how it comes out. I can’t promise it will look like Olaf. He was a really special snowman.” He looked up at Chris. “Ready to learn, grasshopper?”

“Sure. Let me just put this back in the house and get my gloves back on.”

Zach led Nathan to the corner of the yard. “Let’s start over here. We’re going to make a snowball like before, but we’re going to roll it so it gets really big, and we need space.” By the time Chris came back over, they had a snowball about six inches in diameter and well packed. And the snow was perfect. Just wet enough to stick and pack, but dry enough to not make a mess of them. “You ready to watch it grow?” Zach asked them both. Nathan was practically vibrating with excitement. “Let’s end up over there in front of Nonna’s picture window. But first we’ll go in a curvy path so we can make this one really big. Because the bottom snowball needs to be big so it’s a stable base for the others. Okay?”

“K!” cried Nathan, clapping his hands. Chris smiled and nodded.

Zach started to roll the snowball, rotating it every revolution or two so that it would be even. Once he’d gotten it to a good start he stood back and said, “Okay, now you guys do it. Just start rolling toward the back.”

Chris leaned down to take over. “Put your hands right here, Buddy, and help me push, okay?”

“K Babbo!” And off they went, with Zach offering corrections here and there to make sure they weren’t arriving at the spot he’d picked before the the snowball was a suitable size. Eventually, Chris and Zach had to push it together. It was taller than Narthan by the time they got it into position, and he was so excited he was practically dancing as Zach smoothed his gloved hand over the sides to even out the edges.

“How are we going to get the next one on top of this one?” Chris asked. “This got heavy enough that it was hard to roll, much less pick up.”

“Well. the next one will only be about half the size, but still, I can show you a trick. Can you two get it started? I need to grab something from the side yard.”

“Sure. Come on, Nathan. Let’s go make another one.”

“Nat’an roll.”

“Absolutely.”

Zach went to the side of the house, hoping that his mom still stored her gardening supplies there. Sure enough, several of the boards she used when setting up temporary tables for splitting bulbs and transplanting vegetables were stacked neatly against the side of the house. Zach chose one, and started back before noticing a 3’-diameter, blue, plastic disc propped between the wall and a shrub. He wondered for a moment where it had come from. Not left over from his own childhood. Shrugging, he grabbed it, too. As he made his way to the back again, he stopped for a moment to watch Chris and Nathan building the next snowball, taking his phone out to capture some video. Pocketing the phone again, he made his way over to the first snowball and leaned the board against it.

“A ramp?” Chris asked, grunting as he rolled the second ball closer, with Nathan’s nominal help. “That’s the big secret?”

“That’s it. Just a little knowledge of physics.”

“Clever. You going to help, or are you ‘management’ now.”

Zach grinned and took his place beside Chris. “On three.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Chris cried as the ball nearly rolled off the other side of the base. They grinned at each other as they precariously balanced the ball and Zach kicked the ramp away. “Now what?”

“Is it centered?” Zach asked, craning his neck to get a better view.

“Uh, I think so,” answered Chris, doing the same.

“Okay. So, we’re going to twist it back and forth a few times to grind them together.”

Chris nodded, and they started, friction removing some of the snow between the two balls until the junction was more stable. Zach slowly let go, checking that ball was balanced.

“You hold it there and i’ll pack some more snow around the seam.”

Chris nodded again, and when Zach was done on his side, he added, “Now I’ll hold it and you do that side.”

“Got it.”

They stepped back a moment later, admiring their work.

“One, two!” Nathan said excitedly.

“That’s right just one more.”

“Nat’an make!” And with that the boy was running to the corner of the yard. When they caught up with him he was staring down at a mound of snow.

“It stuck.”

“It is? Well, that’s no good,” Chris asked crouching down. “Can I help?”

“Babbo help,” Nathan agreed.

“How big does this one need to be? Like fourteen inches?” he asked Zach as he shaped the mound into a ball.

“Thereabouts. Big enough that he won't look like a pinhead, small enough that we can carry it and get it to balance.”

This one was definitely easier. Lighter, of course, but now that Chris could anticipate what needed to happen, they were moving more seamlessly. Soon their snowman was stable and nearly as tall as he and Chris. Nathan was beyond thrilled.

“Now we need to find two sticks for the arms. Let’s go see what we can find under the maple tree.” He and Chris started walking to the back corner of the yard when his mom opened the back door and called for Nathan.

“Nonna! Snowman!” he said, running toward her with awkward, high steps through the snow.

“I see that, sweet boy! I have something for him. Come look!”

He and Chris picked two fallen branches and started back as Nathan struggled to carry a large bag.

“Whoa, what have you got there?” Zach asked, handing the branches to Chris and running forward to relieve Nathan.

“Nonna,” Nathan said, as if that explained everything.

“Let’s see what she gave us.”

He reached in, surprised to find small spherical Christmas ornaments: two blue, two green, and two bronze. He looked up at Chris, shrugging.

“For eyes, maybe?”

Of course. He looked down at Nathan who was pulling a very long scarf out of the bag.

“What color eyes do you want our snowman to have?”

“Boo!”

“Blue it is. Okay. Time for finishing touches.”

They placed the branches and eyes. A curve of rose hips formed a pink mouth, and tufts of dead Queen Anne’s lace made for wild, blond hair. Zach lifted Nathan to his hip so they could wrap the long scarf around the snowy neck together. Then they all stepped back to admire their work.

Nathan clapped his hands together excitedly. “It Babbo!”

Zach bit back a smile and looked at Chris, because really, Nathan was right. It hadn’t been deliberate, but the resemblance was real.

“No,” Chris said, mock-thoughtfully, in the same voice he’d been using that morning when declaring himself ‘still cold’. “I don’t think it looks like me.”

Nathan smiled broadly, knowing he’d already won the argument. “Babbo eyes,” he said, poking at his own eyes. “Babbo har,” he said, touching the top of his head. “Babbo scaf,” he finished, touching his neck. Then he leaned toward Chris, and Zach handed him over.

“Yeah, but where are his eyebrows?” Chris asked, wrapping his arms around Nathan, their faces inches apart. “I have these bushy eyebrows.”

“There’s plenty more of old weeds at the edges of the yard. I’m sure we could make your brows,” Zach suggested.

“C’mon Babbo!” Nathan pointed to the fence where last years crop of Queen Anne’s Lace stood by the fence, willing Chris to walk that way.

Chris looked at Zach and raised an eyebrow. Yeah, they were definitely missing from the snowman. “I think it’s a great idea. You two go take care of that. I’m going to get something from the house.”

The house was so warm that coming back out into the yard was a shock to his system. But what stopped him in his tracks was the picture Chris and Nathan made, standing by the snowman as flakes gently began to fall again. It was perfect: exactly what he was hoping for from a Christmas at home. No palm trees, or candy-cane forests in shopping malls. No Hollywood costars… he shook his head and forced himself to focus on what was good. This moment. He took a quick picture with his phone before moving forward, reaching the snowman just as Chris and Nathan were putting the finishing touches on the eyebrows. They were coming out more Walter Cronkite than Chris Pine, but they were well arched so the snowman looked friendly and a little surprised. Both Chris and Nathan were giggling as Chris added the last of the vegetation.

“Now he definitely looks like a member of the Quinto-Pine family,” Zach said, “but I don’t think he’s quite finished.” Zach placed another scarf around the neck and slipped the flipflops at the base, filling them with snow ‘feet’. “There. Now’s it’s Babbo.”

Nathan squealed in joy, and Chris could hardly breathe for laughing. He was bent over and leaning his shoulder into Zach’s chest, and it suddenly felt like a hundred other times they had laughed themselves nearly sick, stretching back to the filming of the first Trek film, definitely carrying them through Nathan’s first year. Zach wrapped his arm around Chris’ shoulder and kissed his temple, reveling in the feeling of joy and humor and everything that being ‘Chris and Zach’ had always been while Nathan danced around the snowman and patted the snow filled flip-flops.

Chris turned into the embrace and murmured, “you’re an asshole” as affectionately as any love sonnet had ever been read.

Zach’s cheeks hurt from grinning. “I’m aware. As you have been these ten years.”

“Daddy snowman?” Nathan asked.

“Yeah,” Chris said, wiping his eyes and straightening up. “Where’s Daddy’s snowman? We need to make one with blue toque and some of those brown fern leaves for eyebrows. And maybe Spock ears.”

Zach snickered. “Well, we could do that, or we could wait ‘til tomorrow and get some sledding in before the snow starts coming down too hard. What do you say, Nathan? Want to slide on the snow in that?” he asked, pointing to the saucer.

Nathan looked skeptically at the blue disc.

“Babbo and I will both help. There’s a small hill in the back yard we can use.”

“You like the slide and the playground. It will be like that,” Chris added.

“When Daddy was little, this was his favorite thing,” Zach said, taking Nathan’s hand and leading him to the back. “And if you fall off, the snow is really soft, so that’s fun too.”

“Kay,” Nathan said, though he did not seem particularly convinced.

They decided it would be best if Chris was at the top of the little slope, getting him started, and Zach at the bottom where Nathan could see him and Zach could catch him if he started going fast.

The first attempt was almost painfully slow. Nathan sat in the center of the saucer, mittened hands clinging fiercely to the handles at his sides, eyes wide as the saucer slowly squeaked and scraped against the snow, until it finally bumped Zach’s foot as he crouched and pulled Nathan into his arms.

“What’d you think?”

“Again!”

Nathan got a little braver each time, asking to go faster with a gleeful “more push, Babbo” and then tumbling forward into Zach’s arms. Each time he squealed on his way down as Zach and Chris grinned at each other over his head. The snow was starting to fall harder, sticking to their scarves and hats as the temperature dropped noticeably. And Nathan was getting tired, though denying it utterly. Zach knew he should insist they go in soon, but everyone was having so much fun after so long apart, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He realized his mistake as Nathan listed to the right during the next launch. The child's squeal turned into an alarmed scream as the saucer veered off the worn path and into powdery snow, throwing him from the sled.

“Shit!” Chris cried as Zach rushed forward to where Nathan was planted face down in the snow. “I’m sorry. God, I didn’t mean—”

Nathan pushed his body up, utterly silent for a second as Chris and Zach froze and held their breath. And then the wail began. Zach picked him up, planting him on his feet and quickly framing his face between large hands and checking for injuries. His face was screwed up in a cry, wet from the snow, and and pink from the cold, but was otherwise fine.

“You’re okay,” he said, pulling Nathan against his chest as Chris knelt beside him. “You were so brave, but I know it’s no fun to get a face full of snow.”

“Daddy!” he cried, flinging tiny arms around Zach’s neck as Chris made his own scan of Nathan’s arms and legs.

“I know, but you’re all right. We’ve got you.”

Chris put his hand on Nathan’s back, rubbing comforting circles and murmuring reassurances.

Nathan pushed him away.

“No Babbo!” he yelled, before burying his face in Zach’s neck again, sobbing.

Zach wrapped his arms around his son and looked up at Chris’ stricken face. He was recoiling as if he’d been burned.

“Chris—”

But he was already standing and pulling away, schooling his features. “Uh, how about I go start some hot chocolate so it’s ready when he wants to come in?”

“Chris, he didn’t—”

“It’s fine, Zach,” he interrupted, walking backward toward the house. “I’m fine. I’ll just… I’ll go inside so you can take care of him… get him calm. I’ll start some cocoa.” He turned before Zach could answer, quickly retreating toward the kitchen door, taking what remained of the day’s warmth with him.

Except for the tiny, hot, trembling bundle pressing against his chest.

“Shhhh. You’re okay,” Zach sighed, looking back toward the house as the door swung shut.

“We’ll be okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My usual thanks to @Punk and @Nixhaw for beta reading and chatting. I swear I'd lose all momentum (what little I have) without them.

They clung to each other in the falling snow until shuddering sobs gave way to shivers.

“Better?” Zach asked as Nathan’s breathing began to settle.

“Yeah.”

“Ready to go in?”

Nathan nodded.

“I think you might have hurt Babbo’s feelings.”

“Babbo bad. Push bad. Hurt Nat’an feelers.”

“No, it wasn’t his fault. It was an accident. He didn’t mean for you to fall. He was scared for you.”

Nathan seemed to think about that for a moment. “Where go?” he asked, finally raising his head from Zach’s neck and looking around.

“He went inside to make you hot chocolate. Wasn’t that nice?”

Nathan shrugged.

“Try not to be mad at him, okay? Remember how much we missed Babbo when he was filming?  We need to have fun while he’s here.”

“Babbo go way ‘gain?” His voice trembled.

“Not for a few weeks. We get to play for a long time before he has to go back to Europe to finish making his movie.”

Nathan frowned at that. Zach wondered what was going through his little mind, and whether Chris’ filming was causing resentment. “Some daddies have to go to an office every day and don’t get to play except for weekends. We’re lucky that Babbo usually gets to play. It just means that he sometimes has to work a lot of days in a row, away from home.”

Nathan didn’t have anything to add to that, and after waiting a moment, Zach stood up and carried him into the house.

“Perfect timing,” Chris said with forced cheer, pouring hot cocoa from a saucepan into mugs while Zach peeled his and Nathan’s snow clothes off. “Nonna has mini marshmallows, so this is extra special.”

“Did you remember—”

“The ice cube in Nathan’s. Yup. Temperature should be good.” Chris’ eyes shifted away and he turned, pausing for a moment and then checking that the stove was turned off while Zach got Nathan in his high chair. When Chris returned he set a spoon on the tray so Nathan could drink his like soup and then sat down across from Zach, palming his own mug.

Margo joined them with a plate of peppermint bark, and an awkward silence settled over them as they took their first sips. Nathan’s happy hum as he drank helped a bit, and their marshmallow mustaches caused soft giggles around the table. But conversation faltered, and as hard as Zach grasped for topics that would be safe, none came to mind.

“I was thinking,” Margo finally said to break the silence, “maybe Nathan could help me make some cookies for Santa. If he’s done playing outside.” Zach smiled at her gratefully and turned to Nathan, whose face had lit up.

Soon mixing bowls and wooden spoons were clanging and Nathan was chattering happily. Chris stood a little apart, taking pictures and answering when spoken to, but otherwise quiet. It went on like that for a while, with Chris hovering on the edges of activity, offering to get things from upstairs or bring in more firewood. Nathan had long since lost any sullenness toward Chris, and Chris wasn’t sullen exactly, but he was clearly still troubled by what had happened. Not taking it out on Nathan, but quiet and thoughtful. And Zach wasn't sure how to draw him in again.

Refreshing their cocoa and adding a bit of peppermint schnapps to his and Chris’, Zach came up behind Chris and put a hand on his hip, mirroring Chris’ earlier actions. Chris took the mug and sniffed curiously.

“Something’s different.”

“Yes, well, I figured we might deserve a little holiday cheer. And this is how you prefer your cocoa, if memory serves.”

Chris’ eyes flashed with humor at the memory of how Zach had learned this particular predilection. He took a small sip, humming appreciatively. “Thank you,” he whispered, allowing himself to lean back into Zach’s chest.

Zach reached for his own mug, taking a small sip while enjoying the warmth of Chris’ body seeping through his shirt, humming a response into the precarious peace.

The afternoon passed lazily. When the cookies came out of the oven, Zach declared it was time for Nathan’s afternoon nap, and a quick reminder of Santa had the boy quickly bestowing kisses and hugs before heading up the stairs. If Chris felt any surprise at the bear hug Nathan gave him, the sledding debacle long forgotten in the toddler’s mind, he showed no hesitation in returning it, his eyes falling closed with relief or happiness or something deeper. And Zach thought that would be the end of it. But Chris remained quiet, going up to their room to retrieve some books and settling on the sofa in front of the fire. He seemed happy enough to share the space when Zach plopped down on the other end, pulling Chris’ feet up onto his lap with only a touch more awkwardness than usual. Chris pushed his glasses up his nose and took a well-worn paperback from the stack he’d brought down. It was in terrible shape — spine cracked and corners bent — though Chris still handled it with fastidious care, removing a bookmark that was surely the first the book had ever seen.

“What are you reading?”

“ _Wolf Solent_ ,” Chris answered, showing the cover. “It’s by a fairly famous Welsh author that my makeup person idolizes. She insisted I read it, though it's no hardship. It’s good.”

“What’s it about?”

Chris looked at the cover for a moment, thinking. Warmth bloomed in Zach’s chest, because _this_ Chris was familiar. The man who thought before he offered an answer. Who was thoughtful, in every sense of the word.

“I think it’s going to turn out to be one of those books that’s not about what it seems it’s about. I could tell you the plot — our hero has gone home to try to find himself — but it seems like he’s more caught up in the romanticism of what’s offered and what he _should_ want than making any progress knowing who he is or what he actually _does_ want. I think it’s going to be about living examined versus unexamined lives and the damage that can be done without intent by reacting without self-awareness. And maybe the problems of forcing the world into dualist constructs when the truth is always more complicated.”

“Deep.”

Chris grinned. “Well, that or it’s a going to turn into a cheap love story, or completely collapse under the weight of existential angst. Ask me again in 150 pages. The language is nice, though. Sort of poetic. And the landscapes he describes are a lot like the parts of England we were shooting in, at least to my untrained eye. But the hero’s a bit of a dolt, and not the most interesting character.”

“Who is?”

“A woman. The one it looks like he’s not going to choose.”

“There’s a love triangle?”

“Of sorts, so you’d probably hate it. What about you? What are you reading?”

“Vonnegut. You know, for Christmas.”

Chris snorted at that. “'Tis the season.”

“Exactly.”

Chris huffed a laugh and raised his book again. Zach wrapped his hand around Chris’ ankle on his lap, wishing it were bare, but knowing his California boy would be chilled without the thick socks. He found his page, and they read for a while in a silence that was _almost_ familiar and comfortable, soft holiday music playing in the background. Zach ignored the niggle of doubt that they weren’t doing this because they wanted to read so much as they needed to avoid talking until a little less on edge around each other. Or perhaps it was a bit of both. Once again he found himself more aware of Chris than his book. Chris had almost become a figment over the last months. No that wasn’t right. It wasn’t that he felt imaginary, just… unembodied. Being confronted with his corporeal nature — the weight of his bones, the warmth of his skin, the blue of his eyes as they scanned the page — was almost startling in a way that Zach didn’t remember feeling before. He had gotten used to Chris being gone, being just a voice or an image. He felt like he had to relearn what the weight of Chris’ feet felt like on his lap. And it was at once comforting and disquieting. Zach sighed and turned the page, grateful he’d read the book before and could skim. And that’s when he noticed that Chris hadn’t turned a page for a while. Clandestine glances showed that his eyes were unfocused and glazed. Thoughtful. Troubled. If they’d been at home, he’d just set both their books aside and ask what was on his mind, or reassure him that Nathan had just been upset and spoken without meaning it. He was just a toddler, after all. They’d each been the target of his short-lived wrath when one or the other had upset him and he’d turned to the “nice” parent for support. But Chris should know that. They usually just laughed about it. Something else was going on: maybe what Zach feared, maybe something else. Zach looked back at the kitchen to see how much privacy they might have, but his mom was approaching to sit in her chair.

Belatedly, Zach asked if he could help with anything.

“No. I’m just making some minestrone soup and a salad for dinner, and we can heat up the lasagna. And now we have Nathan’s cookies for dessert.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“It really does,” Chris agreed. “And once we get through the holiday, Zach and I can treat you to dinner out, or cook a night or two,” he suggested, placing a finger in his book to mark his page. “We don’t want you waiting on us during our whole visit.”

“We’ll see,” Margot answered.

Zach snorted, turning to Chris and shaking his ankle gently. “She means what you mean when you say that.”

“I figured,” Chris said. “And we _will_ see.”

Zach laughed openly at the burgeoning battle of wills. But his mom had always given Chris more or less _carte blanche_ in the house. He’d be shocked if Chris weren’t cooking by the end of the week.

A familiar call came from upstairs. Nathan’s afternoon naps did tend to be shorter than the morning ones. Margot was up before he could set his book down.

“Anything you want to do this afternoon?” He asked Chris, noting that the snow was still coming down hard outside.

“Not particularly. Just be with you and Nathan. Do you have any Christmas Eve traditions? Do we need to go to the church or anything?”

“No, definitely no church, though mom wants to take Nathan the day after Christmas for this special celebration. We wouldn’t go though. If that’s okay with you.”

“Sure.”

Zach thought back to the non-religious traditions that didn’t involve food or his grandparents. “We mostly played in the snow and watched whatever Christmas shows were on.”

“What, like the Heat Miser and all those?”

“Yeah. _Grinch_ , _Rudolph_ and all of those stop-action shorts.”

“I loved those things. I wonder if Nathan could follow those.” It was true that while Nathan had expert knowledge of the Disney princesses that he’d somehow just absorbed through the air, he’d never sat in front of one of the films except during the singing.

“Maybe.”

Chris looked at his hands for a moment and then asked, “What are Nathan’s favorite games these days?”

“Uh, probably Hide-n-seek, but that’s a little dangerous with so many presents hidden everywhere. He likes to dance to the newest Gustafer DVD. _Cakenstein_ is his favorite song. He keeps asking me to bake him one, hoping it will go on a party rampage like in the video. I told him you’re the baker. Oh, and he learned how to make a Santa face from a hand print at Kid’s Club, but he’s still not so great at coloring inside it yet.”

Chris nodded. “Well, maybe we could do that anyway. We brought crayons, right?”

“Don’t leave home without them.”

“There they are!” His mom’s sing-song voice announced their arrival.

“Daddy! Babbo!” Nathan squirmed out of Margo’s arms and ran over to the sofa. “I good nap!”

“You sure did,” Chris said happily as Nathan launched into his arms. What a difference a nap makes. “Daddy and I were just trying to figure out what we should do this afternoon.”

“Nonna’s gots ‘ments,” Nathan said

Zach looked to his mom for a translation.

“I bought a craft kit that lets you turn family pictures into ornaments. Nathan wasn’t sure it sounded fun at first, but became convinced when he heard there was glitter involved.”

“Yes, that would do it,” Zach said, grinning at Chris. They’d already had ample experience with Nathan’s glitter techniques. “Sure you want to do that inside the house?”

Margo smiled. “I thought we’d put newspaper down on the table.”

“That won’t save the floor,” Zach warned.

She just shrugged and smiled.

“This sounds like a good plan. How do we start?”

The next hour was spent cutting out images that Margo had printed from the photos they’d emailed her over the last year. There were metal backs that the images could be glued to, and then the “frames” could be decorated with glitter, tiny bows, and other Christmas themed shapes. Several were finished and lined up on the edge of the table when Chris’ phone rang, the ringtone inserting dissonant notes into the joyful Christmas music they’d been listening to. Chris grimaced when he saw the name, gave a quick apologetic look to Zach, and retreated to the living room as he answered with a clipped “Melissa.” Zach watched him disappear around the corner and turned back to see his mom raising an eyebrow.

“His assistant,” he said, shrugging a little. “Something must have come up.” They continued with the project, Nathan spreading glitter on his cheeks and hair and probably the banana he was eating for a snack, but Zach was more focused on the rise and fall of Chris’ voice in the next room. He wasn’t able to make out words, but the tone was enough to tell him there was a problem. After a moment he stood, grabbing Chris’ eggnog as an excuse to go in the other room. Chris’ voice became clear before he’d rounded the corner.

“...no, absolutely not. We negotiated the timing on the press work. On my way back to London I’ll stop in New York... I don’t care how short it is or how close to Pittsburgh, I’m not cutting into my vacation… Mel...So I’ll be in breach of contract and pay the fine.” Chris paused as he listened, then snorted. “Yeah, that’d play well in the press. Disney is a family-friendly company: they should get this…” There was a longer pause, and Zach started to move forward when he heard, “No, Mel, it doesn’t matter. Just tell them no. And have you looked into those links I forwarded from Gal?” Something twisted in Zach’s stomach. “I know it’s expensive; just see if it’s available. And for Italy, too. No, I haven’t talked to him yet; I’ve barely been home 48 hours. Just find out, so I can know what the options are... No… Because I can’t keep doing this.” Zach was frozen. And eavesdropping, he realized. He shook himself out of it and moved around the corner so Chris would see him as he held out the eggnog. Chris offered an awkward smile and mouthed “thanks” as he continued to listen. “Yeah, well, I’ve been ignoring Karen’s messages on purpose. Tell her to take a week or two off. I don’t want to hear about any new scripts right now…” He looked down at the floor, like Nathan did when he was being scolded. When he spoke again, his voice was weary. “Well, the fire might be hot, but I’m burning out. And she works for me, not the other way around… Okay, thanks Mel. Have a good holiday.”

Chris hung up and took the cup of eggnog, downing it in one swallow. Zach hoped the brandy helped.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Chris said too quickly, then looked up at Zach with a grimace. “ _Hours_ wants me to do some press before New Years. I said ‘no’.”

“Will they let you say ‘no’?”

Chris shrugged. All the wear was back on his face, the good of the last day erased in one phone call. Zach was suddenly angry at the world. He made an aborted move toward Chris, not sure if comfort was what he wanted. But apparently the instinct was right, because he suddenly had an armful of weary, heavy boyfriend. Zach tightened his arms and tried to ignore the parts of the conversation Chris hadn’t shared with him openly.

“We’ll build an army of snowmen in case they come for you.”

Chris huffed a laugh into his neck. “White walkers.”

“Exactly. They’ll have to fight me off, too. And if Nathan’s opened his lightsaber by the time they arrive, god help them.”

Chris laughed again and tightened his arms. Clinging. Zach was just about to ask if there was something else when Chris whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Zach winced at the tone of surprise in his voice, and squeezed Chris a little tighter to compensate. Nathan giggled in the other room, and Zach reluctantly pulled back. “C’mon,” he said, kissing Chris’ temple before stepping back and taking his hand. “We saved you the last family portrait.” Chris smiled and nodded, allowing himself to be led back into the family fold.

It was starting to get dark when they finished, and Zach suggested they get cleaned up and have an early dinner, since Chris was already fading again.

As usual, the lasagna tasted even better the day after it was made, and the minestrone was satisfying the way only soup could be on snowy evenings. They cleaned up the kitchen while Margo bathed Nathan again, and they all settled around the tv at 6:30 to watch Nathan’s choice of _Rudolph_. It was cozy. Nathan was snuggled between he and Chris in his feetsy “Staying up for Santa” pajamas — which he most certainly was not — and he was delighted with the show, especially the misfit toys. When it was over, Chris got some pictures of Nathan in his special pjs by the tree, laying out cookies and eggnog for Santa. He was so excited, Zach wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep yet. And then Nathan made it clear he didn’t want to go to bed. It hadn’t turned into a full-fledged tantrum yet, but it was right on the cusp. And building. Code Amber, as he and Chris used to joke.

“Hey, Nathan?” Chris asked, glancing at Zach as if for permission. But Zach really didn’t know what he was up to. He just shrugged. “In my family, we got to open one Christmas present the night before. Would you like to open one that I brought you from England?”

“Nat’an present?” the boy asked, the crisis quickly de-escalating, judging from his hopeful voice. Zach bit his lip and smiled at Chris.

“Yeah, but Daddy and I get to pick out which one, and I have a special one that I think will be perfect.”

Nathan spun to look at Zach expectantly.

“I _like_ Babbo’s tradition!” Zach said, getting into the spirit. “Should we make it our new tradition?”

“Yeah!” Nathan answered, throwing his arms in the air.

“I have to go find it upstairs. How about you and Daddy go potty and brush your toofers, and when you’re done it will be ready.”

Nathan bolted for the stairs, and Zach huffed a laugh and turned to follow, but was abruptly stopped by Chris’ hand on his arm. His mom went up the stairs to help Nathan.

“This is okay?” came the quiet question as he turned back. Chris looked genuinely nervous.

“Of course,” he whispered back, covering Chris’ hand with his own. “We should have talked about it earlier, so we could make sure that your traditions are getting incorporated, too. Oh god,” Zach had an abrupt thought. “Do we…should we be doing something for Hanukkah?”

Chris shook his head and smiled. “That was weeks ago. This is fine. I’ll go get the book for him to unwrap.”

“His Christmas Eve gift is a book?”

“Of course…then it segues right into bedtime.”

Zach felt a smile quirk on his lips. “When was the last time I told you how brilliant you are?”

The blush running up Chris’ face was adorable, and as usual caused the strange dual reactions in Zach: the desire to kiss his cheek sweetly, and the less sweet desire to follow that blush with his tongue and teeth all the way down. Because he knew exactly how low it could travel. Fuck, it had really been too long since they’d touched each other.

“It’s been a while,” Chris admitted.

Zach had to remind himself what he’d asked, his thoughts had traveled so far down Chris’ shirt since he’d asked. He stepped forward, cupping Chris’ cheek and pressing a chaste if lingering kiss on his cheek. “You’re brilliant,” he murmured against Chris’ heated cheek, hearing a sharp intake of breath just before he reluctantly pulled away. Anything more and he’d be sporting a very inappropriate hard-on by the time Nathan came down for his present. Speaking of… “You’d better go get it.”

Chris cleared his throat. “Right. Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Chris took the stairs two at a time, ass shown off perfectly in his jeans, and Zach adjusted himself muttering “fucker” under his breath. He should not be having these thoughts when Nathan was still up, when there were presents to put out and parents to talk with. When he and Chris _still_ hadn’t had a chance to seriously talk. Zach did not want the doubts in his mind to be lost by the strong insistence of his cock, but damn it felt good to just flirt with Chris and share a moment. It felt like _them_. The “them” he was used to, anyway. Happy and reasonably uncomplicated.

He decided to refill their wine glasses as he heard everyone come back downstairs.

“Wait for Daddy,” he heard Chris say as he walked back in with the bottle and then topped everyone off with a warm Chianti.

“What have you got, Nathan?” he asked as he sat back down.

“Nat’an good. Present!” he said holding it over his head.

“Do you need me to help you open it?” Zach asked, starting to reach toward the gift. Nathan whipped it to the far side of his body, where Zach couldn’t reach it, saying “Nat’an do” as Chris met Zach’s eyes and bit back a laugh.

“Okay, you do it then,” Zach said, leaning back to watch and take a sip of his wine.

Nathan struggled to get a fingerhold on the folded paper in the corner, but once he got that torn, all the paper was off in a second.

“It book!”

“Yup,” Chris said leaning forward and turning it rightside up. “It’s about a bear named Paddington who lives with this family in London.”

“Bar?”

“Yeah, a bear. But he lives with a regular family. And he gets confused a lot. This book is about his first Christmas. Should it be our bedtime story tonight?”

“Babbo read?” he asked, climbing up onto Chris’ lap.

“Sure, buddy. I’d love to.” He settled Nathan on his knee and patted the sofa indicating that Zach should scoot closer.

Halfway through Zach could tell the trouble-prone, well-intentioned bear was going to become a new favorite. It was just the right combination of sweet and ridiculous, and Nathan laughed out loud several times. When it was over, Nathan immediately asked to have it read again.

“But what will happen if Santa comes and we’re all still awake and reading?”

Nathan scowled in thought, and then asked, “In morning?”

“Sure, we can read it again tomorrow if you like. But I think it's bedtime.”

They all went up and snuggled Nathan, first Margo, then Chris, who shut the door as he left, leaving Zach and Nathan alone to say goodnight.

“Santa come?”

“I think so. Have you been good?”

“Nat’an good. Daddy good?”

Zach huffed a laugh, wondering how to answer. “I’ve certainly tried to be good,” he finally settled on.

“Babbo good?”

That sobered him up. Biting his lip he said quietly, “I think Babbo’s tried to be good, too.” Clearing his throat he added, “But you know, Santa is especially for little kids. He doesn’t really bring presents for grownups. So if Babbo and I don’t have anything from him, it doesn’t mean we were bad, okay?”

His brow furrowed into a worried line. “Nat’an big boy.”

“Yes, you are my big boy, aren’t you?” Zach said, hugging Nathan more tightly. “But you’re still little enough for Santa. Don’t worry. Now lie down with Gustafer and go to sleep so Santa will come.”

“Love Daddy,” Nathan said as he clutched his doll and snuggled down on his belly.

“Love you, too, Nathan.”

He closed the door softly and turned to see Chris leaning against the wall near the door to their bedroom, eyes closed. Zach approached quietly, putting a hand on Chris’ hip and stopping when they were mere inches apart. He could hear his mom downstairs, but the quiet, darkened hall had an illusion of privacy. He felt the pull they had on each other, that they’d _always_ had, even in the earliest months of Nathan's life when they hadn't even acknowledged what they felt, but still watched movies tangled together as if that were something mere friends would do. And just like then, Zach wanted to erase all the distance between them — literally and figuratively.

“You okay?” he asked when Chris still hadn't opened his eyes.

“Mmmm. Just fading.” He smiled, eyes still closed, obviously enjoying the closeness. And Zach wanted to kiss him so fucking badly, but he honestly didn’t know if he could stop once he got going. And he still wanted to show Chris the photo and ask him what it meant, but he also didn’t want to ruin Christmas Eve. And after what he’d overheard on that phone call, he was feeling a little protective of Chris, as well. Chris was obviously under more pressure than he’d even realized, and needed a sanctuary. And that was what they were supposed to be for each other, right? He rubbed a thumb against Chris’ cheek, and Chris leaned into it, still smiling.

“You made it all the way to 8:15 tonight.”

Chris snorted. “Yeah, I’m a champ. I’ve got a little life in me, still, but we should probably do the presents now, or you might be doing them alone. You tuckered me out a bit with the snowman building.” Chris’ smile started to fade as his mind clearly shifted to what had happened next. Zach could almost watch the emotional barrier going up, and leaned forward quickly to kiss the corner of his mouth before the moment of easy comfort dissipated like fog.

“Okay,” Zach whispered against his cheek. “But let’s change into pajamas first so if you fall asleep midway, you’ll be comfortable.”

“Ye of little faith,” he mumbled, raising his eyebrows and smiling, but still keeping his eyes closed. He looked half asleep, despite being upright.

Zach brushed his thumb below the dark smudges under Chris’ eyes. “I’m just noticing I haven’t seen your eyes though this whole conversation.”

They opened then, hazy and dark blue and crinkling at the corners as Chris whispered, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Zach whispered back. Chris raised his hands to Zach’s hips, but they were heavy and clumsy, like fighting gravity was a losing proposition. “Sure you don’t want to just go to bed? I can handle the presents.”

Chris straightened up then and rubbed his eyes. “No, I want to help. But I think you’re right about changing first. Did you pack the Grinch t-shirts?”

Zach’s grin widened. “Of course. They’re tradition.”

By the time they started carrying packages down the stairs, Margo had hung four stockings from the mantle.

Chris stared at them for a moment, a small, soft smile breaking across his sleepy face like dawn.

“She’s a mom,” Zach leaned in with a smirk, “what did you expect?”

“I heard that,” Margo said, mom-voice activated. “Watch it or I’ll take all the candy out of yours.”

“Are there chocolate covered sponge candies?” Zach asked, trying to peek as his mom swatted him away.

“Sponge candies?”

Zach turned to Chris, laughing at his confused, somewhat disgusted look. “They’re better than they sound. I developed a taste for them early in life.”

“So, an exception to the whole no-processed-sugar rule?”

Zach shrugged. “They’re grandfathered in. Plus, sort of a local delicacy. And it’s Christmas.”

“Hey, you don't have to justify anything to me,” Chris said with a grin. “It’s just good to learn of another of your weaknesses.”

They put all the gifts under the tree — the vast majority being for Nathan — and tried not to notice as they each added a few gifts to each other's stockings. By nine they were spread out sideways on the sofa, and Chris was already nearly asleep when his mom refilled their wine glasses and turned on _It’s a Wonderful Life._ If Chris had been awake, Zach probably would have insisted on _Elf_ or _Scrooged_ or something that would have kept them all laughing. But lying there in his childhood home, with his son sleeping upstairs and Chris snoring lightly against his chest, it felt right.

As he watched, he considered… not exactly never having Chris in his life, but just changing that one night. That night, when Miles had finally broken things off after a week of fights and negotiations and accusations. He couldn't name the impulse that had made him pull up Chris’ number when Miles hung up the final time and he was faced with the silence of that Pittsburgh hotel room. He was pretty sure that if he hadn't been up all night, fighting and crying and pleading — if he hadn't been utterly wrecked and so sleep deprived he didn't recognize how early it still was on the west coast… If he’d been in his right mind _at all_ — he wouldn't have done it. And that was terrifying. How it would have changed his life, he could scarcely imagine. Would they have found their way to each other eventually anyway, without that trial by fire (and warm formula and dirty diapers) in the hotel suite? Would Zach be a single dad, not for a month here and there when Chris was on location, but _always_? Would they have missed out on all the laughter and worry and joy in Nathan's little triumphs?

He didn’t want that. Whatever was going on with Chris, he wasn’t going to let this just slip away because of neglect or misunderstanding or…

He thought back to that photo. And then Chris asleep in his arms, trusting. No, not really trusting; he’d been holding back since he’d gotten home. But _needing_. Even through all the awkward moments and overheard business calls, Zach sensed that Chris needed him, was trying to find his way back. And that was hopeful. And Zach hadn’t been terribly forthright either, too afraid of upsetting what peace they had. Even if Chris _had_ cheated… His mind stuttered for a moment and he closed his eyes and took a breath. Even if he had, well, Zach had done the same himself, in the past. Those relationships weren’t as serious as this one, but he’d been guilty of the same transgression. Maybe it could be forgiven. It would be… _devastating_. But maybe they could move beyond it, if Chris really wanted to. If he didn't...Zach choked on a shuddering breath, trying to hide it as he held Chris tighter.

His mom sniffed and wiped her eyes. “This part always gets me, too, dear.”

Zach turned toward the tv, surprised to see the happy reunion in black and white. He was glad for the cover.

The movie ended and his mom got up quietly, turning off the tv and blowing him a kiss before going upstairs. The room was dark now except for the lights of the Christmas tree, quiet but for the creak of the wind and Chris’ soft snuffly snores over his heart. It was perfect. Almost perfect. Zach let his fingers wander aimlessly across Chris’ back as he regained his train of thought. Chris wasn't acting like a man who was giving up on a relationship, even if something had happened in England. If that were really the case, wouldn’t Chris have pulled him to the side and said something by now...or just refused to come to his home. Wouldn’t he be avoiding him by going to bed early again rather than falling asleep in his arms?

He ran his fingers through Chris’ hair and sighed, wondering how they’d managed to become an old married couple — with all the care, secrets, and complete lack of sex that entailed — before they’d even had a wedding.

He shifted, and Chris made a groggy, muffled sound. He raised his head and squinted up at Zach.

“Hi baby.”

Chris yawned and laid his head back on Zach’s chest. “Did all the angels get their wings?” he asked.

“Every last one. Time for bed.”

Chris groaned, “Let’s not move.”

It was tempting. Chris was warm and heavy on top of him and relaxed in a way reminiscent of how they’d always been. It was like when Zach and Nathan had first moved in with Chris. Back then they had watched movies in each other’s arms, minds full of things they were keeping from each other, making assumptions. Of course, back then they might have lingered because they were heading to separate beds and didn’t want to. Now they had the same bed to go to. That should be motivation enough to go, but if Chris wanted to stay… well, Zach tried not to read too much into it. He was probably just tired, not actively avoiding privacy.

“Santa won’t come,” Zach tried, pulling a snort and smile from Chris. “And our backs won’t thank us.”

“That’s true.” Chris’ mumbled groan already had an air of resignation. “How many steps are there?”

Zach squeezed him tighter. Exhaustion, then. “I haven’t counted. You want a piggy back ride like Nathan?”

Chris rallied to raise his head again and stare at Zach. His glasses were off, and his gaze was soft and unfocused. “No. I’m just being difficult. The bed is comfortable. We should use it. The lights are nice, though,” he added, looking over at the tree.

“They are. Come on,” Zach said, nudging him a little, “I’ll make sure you don’t stumble around too much on the way up.”

Chris ended up climbing the stairs alone as Zach turned off the Christmas tree and took a few bites of the cookies Nathan had left out for Santa. By the time he got upstairs, Chris had brushed his teeth and climbed into bed, and by the time he done the same, Chris was asleep again.

He put his phone on the charger, but he didn’t look at that picture again. Or think about the things he overheard on the phone. Tomorrow was Christmas. A time for family and happiness. And Chris was here with him. He was going to take that at face value and run with it. The rest of the world would sneak up on them soon enough, he figured. He climbed into bed, settling on his side with his back to Chris, close enough to feel his warmth through his shirt. Just as he fell asleep, he felt Chris roll toward him and drape an arm over his waist, his breath brushing the back of Zach’s neck in a way that was achingly familiar and comforting. Zach snuggled back and let that rhythm lull him to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Punk and NixDucky for betaing this over (once again literally) months. Apologies that I'm taking so long between chapters, but rl etc. So It's Christmas Day. In July. So maybe stand in front of your freezer for a few minutes before reading to convince yourself that snow is something that could be real somewhere...and probably read the end of the last chapter to remind yourself where we are in the story. I know I had to... and if you're still reading, THANKS!

Zach awoke to a darkened bedroom, Chris still curved close to his back, but definitely _not_ asleep. Zach shifted and let slip a muffled groan as he felt Chris’ erection pressing insistently against his ass.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Chris mumbled against the back of his neck. “It’s three in the fucking morning and I should leave you alone and let you sleep, but—”

“No you shouldn’t,” Zach interrupted, pressing himself back and shuddering at Chris’ answering moan. “You should definitely _not_ stop. You should show me how much you missed me.”

Chris nuzzled his neck, raising goose bumps in the wake of his lips. “I did. Fuck, I missed you _so much,_ Zach.” And _god_ that voice. Zach had longed to hear it close to his ear like this for _weeks_. All that pent up need seemed to bloom across Zach’s body at once: his skin, his veins, and somewhere low and deep in his abdomen… Chris reached his hand around to the front of Zach’s flannel sleep pants, tracing a finger along Zach’s hardening dick tentatively until Zach growled and thrust harshly against his hand. Then all hesitancy was gone. Chris palmed him possessively, pulling him back. That was more like it. Fuck that was _good_ , even through layers of flannel. Months of distance and doubt evaporated in the face of the solid, physical evidence that Chris wanted him. Trapped between Chris’ hard cock and firm, dexterous hand, Zach could hardly decide what he wanted more. He rocked back and forth as Chris cursed against his shoulder.

“Tell me,” he whispered, reaching back to grab Chris’ ass and pull him closer. “Tell me what you did when you missed me.”

“Oh god. Um. So many things. I tried so many things to tide me over. This was one that worked the best. I’d lay on my side like this, hand slicked up, and imagine I had you in front of me, open and ready for me to press into you in one, long stroke.”

A frisson of heat swept through Zach at Chris’ rough voice and the hard, slow thrust that forced Zach’s hips forward into Chris’ curved hand.

“I’d start with my hand almost too tight. Almost painful. And then I’d open slowly, the way you open for me, until I’d be rocking into my palm over and over. If I kept my eyes closed and had your shirt on the pillow, I could almost imagine you were really there.”

Zach whimpered. God he wanted that. He wanted that right _now_. To feel Chris fill him slowly, inch by inch, spreading him while also surrounding him. Stroking him. It’d been so long since he’d felt that... possessed. He needed it. “Do you want that? Now? There’s lube in the drawer.”

Chris made the most delicious sound and slipped his hand into Zach’s pants, gripping him firmly. “I do. I want you every way. But I’ve only told you one of the things I did.”

The touch of Chris’ bare hand on his cock made Zach’s mind stutter for a moment. But then Chris’ words sunk in. “What else?”

“I’d lay on my back and spread my legs, and take that Spock dildo you gave me as a joke and work it into me, trying to imagine you hovering over me. The heat and smell of your skin. Being pressed into the mattress as you opened me up. It never really worked. The angle was always wrong, it just felt cold and empty and a little depressing without you on top of me. But sometimes I was still desperate enough to feel you inside me that I’d try.”

Zach had flipped himself and pinned Chris before he had even finished the sentence. Chris’ “oomph” and hiss were perfect as Zach got their cocks lined up and pressed him into the mattress. “This what you need, baby?” he heard himself ask, just as his own mind was wishing the flannel would FUCK OFF and disappear without him having to pull away. It stayed stubbornly between them, though, and in a flash of irritation pulled back. Chris protested his sudden absence with a grunt until he saw Zach peeling off his shirt and pants, and moved to follow suit. Zach pushed Chris’ legs apart and lowered himself again, skin to skin, chest to chest, his cock moving urgently against the smooth heat of Chris’. And Chris was making the most glorious sounds already. Zach watched as Chris’ expression turned inward, lost in physical pleasure while Zach rocked against him and catalogued every flicker of emotion and pleasure. Every twitch was familiar but felt new, and Zach wanted to learn each one again, memorize them all over. And then Chris’ eyes opened and slowly focused.

“Zach.”

Just his name, but it was almost enough to send him over already. He surged forward and devoured Chris’ lips almost desperately. He couldn’t quite catch his breath. They should slow down. Savor things. Get some fucking lube so they weren’t raw in the morning... but now Chris’ hands were tugging at his hair and grabbing his ass and urging Zach to move faster and harder, and there was no fucking way he could do anything else.

Moments later Chris stiffened and groaned Zach’s name into his mouth, and Zach swallowed down every whimper and moan before feeling his own orgasm surge almost violently through him. He collapsed onto Chris’ chest having no idea if he’d managed to stay quiet — probably not — and felt Chris’ arms hold him in place, as if he might currently have enough coordination to do more than gasp for air. They stayed like that for long moments, just breathing. Zach felt almost boneless as his mind drifted in the afterglow, not really focusing on anything until he nearly fell asleep surrounded by warmth and bliss and the smell of sweat and sex. Abruptly, the thought of Nathan waking them excitedly on Christmas morning and finding them naked and glued together with dried come intruded, and he groaned.

“What?” Chris mumbled sleepily.

“We have to get cleaned up and dressed again before we fall asleep.” There was no need to spell out the consequences; he felt the rumble of Chris’ resigned grunt and raised himself reluctantly. There was an impressive amount of come stuck to both of them, and Chris started laughing at what must have been a grimace on his face.

“You know, for someone who loves to see my chest covered in spunk, you are particularly intolerant of it on your own.”

“It sticks to my hair,” Zach huffed.

“So you’ve said.” Chris’ voice was laced with amusement and affection. Zach rolled his eyes and carefully reached over to the nightstand drawer, pulling out the travel packet of baby wipes. One of the perks of being parents was discovering the multitudes of off-label uses for these handy little soft wipes, effective-post-sex-cleanup-without-leaving-bed being Zach’s favorite. They made quick work of it, Chris helping where Zach missed a spot on what he called Zach’s “hairy heart,” though Zach had always thought that patch of hair looked more like the bat-signal than anything as romantic as a heart. They put their Grinch t-shirts back on and found their sleep pants in a wad under the bed, making sure that everything was put away and mother- and toddler-presentable before tangling back under the blankets.

For the first time since Chris had come home, Zach fell asleep with Chris’ head resting on his chest. He breathed in the lingering smell of sweat and sex and sandalwood shampoo and let his mind go blissfully blank.

It felt like only moments later when a heavy thud into his left side had him opening his eyes to grey predawn light. Chris was still in his arms, raising his head sleepily and mumbling, “What time is it?” just as Nathan yelled, “Daddy, Babbo! Santa! Presents!” and then dashed from the room.

Chris collapsed back down on his chest as his mom peeked round the door frame.

“Sorry, boys. Want me to try to hold him off for another hour?”

Zach turned to look at the clock on the nightstand. 7:15. The sun wouldn’t even be properly up for a half hour, but somehow he didn’t mind.

“Make coffee?” he asked his mom with a sleep-rough voice. She smiled and left them to wake up.

“Merry Christmas,” Zach whispered, squeezing Chris more tightly.

He felt Chris’ grin against his chest. “Merry Christmas.”

They shared a kiss that was not so desperate as those of last night, but more intimate than any others since he’d come home. Zach’s mind stuttered for a moment, the picture of that other kiss flashing through his mind before he consciously pushed it aside. Last night had been...well, they finally felt like themselves. And today was Christmas. An excited squeal from downstairs had them both grinning into the kiss and pushing the covers down and finding slippers. By the time they got downstairs, there were Santa mugs of coffee on the kitchen counter and his mom was putting raspberries in the bottoms of three flutes while Nathan crouched to examine the presents under the tree.

“Zachary, can you open the Prosecco?”

“Already?” Chris asked, rubbing his eyes and taking a coffee.

“Bellinis are a Christmas morning tradition,” Zach said, loosening the wire cover. “Sort of like mimosas, but better.” The cork came out with a loud pop. His mom had just finished pouring a bit of thick peach nectar in the bottom of each glass, and Zach followed behind, filling each to the top with the Prosecco. “I’m pretty sure it’s so the grownups can deal with the hyper kids all day, but they’re also delicious.” He handed one to his mom and one to Chris. They all toasted to a “Merry Christmas” and returned to the living room with a mug of coffee in one hand, and a sparkling cocktail in the other.

“Daddy! Santa!”

“Really, are you sure?” he asked setting his drinks on the coffee table and taking Chris’ flute, since he was clearly concentrating on his coffee at the moment.

“Eats cookies,” Nathan said pointing at the evidence.

“Hmm. Good point,” Chris said, walking over to get a better look. “And weren’t those stockings empty last night?” Chris sipped his coffee and winked at Zach.

“Nat’an see,” he said, pulling on the first one. Chris made a wild grab to keep it from falling on top of him, somehow managing to not spill his coffee.

“Whoa buddy. Let me help you. We need to find the one with your name on it. Do you remember what an ‘N’ looks like?”

Nathan pointed to the stocking Chris had caught.

“Close. That’s a ‘Z’...sort of a sideways ‘N’. This one says ‘Zach’... think you can give it to Daddy?”

“Daddy! S’ting!”

“Thanks, Nathan,” he said, taking it. “Help Babbo pass them all out and then we can open them.”

Soon they were pulling out sweets and little gag gifts from their stockings, with Nathan alternately declaring what he had or asking, “What dat?” (“A candy cane.” “Sponge candy.” “A Pez dispenser of Mr. Sulu...very funny Mom.”)

His stocking had a Mr. Spock Pez dispenser (Leonard’s Spock, not his…he supposed that’s when they’d _really_ know they’d made the big time), and Chris had a Kirk. His mom had Uhura and Bones. But the best stocking stuffer was possibly the socks he’d slipped into Chris’ stocking as a last minute thing, black with a gray “Fuck Socks” on the ankle. Chris threw his head back in laughter, eyes crinkling delightfully. When Nathan asked what was funny, Chris explained that his socks had writing.

“What say?”

“Um,” Chris started, clearing his throat and schooling his features. “‘I don’t like socks’.”

Zach snickered, Chris started giggling again, and even his mother laughing hard enough to wipe away tears. Nathan gave them all a look that clearly showed he did not see what the fuss was about and dug back into his stocking. When they got to the mandarin oranges in the toes, his mom suggested they bag up the stocking loot and build a fire while she put the baked french toast in the oven.

Nathan wasn’t so sure about this plan. He picked up a large package and held it up in a silent request.

“Not yet, Nathan. You have to wait until after breakfast.”

With a scowl, he turned and threw the package at the base of the Christmas tree.

“Nathan!”

Chris laughed, and Nathan turned to him, still not happy. “It’s okay. I know what’s in that one. There’s no way he could break it.”

“Nat’an’s?” he asked hopefully.

“Yup, it’s yours, Little Man, but you need to wait until after breakfast, like Daddy said. Maybe while we’re waiting for it to cook, we could make a fire in the fireplace. What do you say?”

Watching the mechanics of Chris making the fire was sufficient distraction, especially once Chris started asking for help (Hand me that newspaper, will ya? Okay, now that small log...).

Zach refreshed their coffee and bellinis, laughing as Nathan started applauding the crackling fire. Nathan eyed the presents again, but Zach shook his head. His family had always dragged things out a bit, and he liked not being in such a rush. But since Nathan wasn’t really seeing the benefits, he decided some distraction was in order.

“Nathan, let’s look through your stocking stuffers again. Do you know what this is for?” he asked, holding up the Pez dispenser.

Nathan shrugged.

“Candy!”

That was enough to get his attention. Zach showed Nathan how to load the Pez container, which caused a bit of consternation for the little guy

“Sulu eats Nat’an’s candy?”

“No, no. He’s just storing it for you. And see, you pull his head back like this and he gives you one back.”

Nathan’s eyes widened in alarm as Zach pushed the head back.

“It’s okay. Take the candy, and then he’ll be better again.”

With an air of skepticism that seemed beyond his years, Nathan carefully took the candy and jumped as the head snapped back into position. He was frozen, just watching the Sulu head like he wasn’t sure what it was going to do next.

“You can eat it,” Zach encouraged, fighting a grin at Nathan’s serious concern. Nathan slowly raised the candy to his mouth and stuck his tongue out to taste it before his serious expression transformed to a grin and he pushed it into his mouth.

“More?”

“After breakfast. Nonna made something special.”

Instead of pouting, Nathan pulled out some of the other little stocking toys to have Zach show him how they worked. It was a quiet, happy, peaceful exploration. Zach leaned against the base of the sofa next to Chris, who was beaming as Nathan showed him his stash, taking the occasional picture, and shooting happy little smiles toward Zach. He tried to memorize the moment: sitting on the floor with Chris and Nathan, racing the wind-up robots they’d all gotten (because his mom had raised two boys and knew how to distract them), the scene suffused with colorful, twinkling lights and music (and his mom singing in the kitchen) and the fire and the light buzz from the Prosecco and the snow falling outside... it was just about as perfect as Zach could have hoped for. A veritable Hallmark Channel special. And in spite of his erstwhile hipster self, Zach adored it, hiding a smile behind his coffee mug because he was sure he looked like a giddy fool. And it became even better as the aromas of vanilla and orange zest filled the air.

By the time they were called in to eat, Nathan was complaining of hunger and thrilled at the prospect of having a breakfast that he could drown in syrup two days in a row. While they ate, his mom told more stories about Christmases when Zach was young, including a few from before his dad had died — things Zach himself barely remembered. Chris was eating it up, hanging on Margo’s every word and tangling his socked feet with Zach’s under the table, giving him conspiratorial little glances while chewing his food.

Zach loved him so much. It was almost devastating sometimes to realize it. Such a far cry from all those other relationships, where Zach had thought he’d invested so much, but in hindsight realized he’d always held a good portion of himself back. It was a defense mechanism from his earliest years, possibly even stemming from from his father’s death, if his numerous shrinks were to be believed. He always thought it stemmed from being a gangly and awkward teen with Neanderthal eyebrows and a too-pretty smile. And too-pretty giggle. So many reasons to be targeted, even before the accusation of “fag” held any true merit.

But Chris had always accepted him. As a friend, as a man. Now as a father and lover. Zach had always struggled to _maintain_ barriers between them. Having them was never a natural state, but something he felt he needed to do to be fair to himself and whomever he was dating at the time. Until, in the wake of Nathan’s birth, every last wall had crumbled, and Zach had felt renewed by the raw intimacy and vulnerability. It hadn’t felt dangerous; it had been a _relief_.

The fear that it had all been a terrible mistake had gnawed at him the last few weeks, but this moment — having Chris at his mom’s kitchen table, laughing at her stories and flirting with him surreptitiously while his mom and their son looked on — it made all that feel like some strange dream. They were fine. Well, maybe not _fine_ , but when they were together, they still _fit_. And as long as that was true… as long as they could have moments like this… well, it seemed like a good sign.

Chris insisted on doing the dishes, so Zach took Nathan upstairs and got him changed and grabbed a quick shower. As he came back to their bedroom with his jeans on, toweling his hair dry, he caught Chris staring at the closet. Frozen.

“This is a strange reversal of roles,” he said, making Chris jump. Zach looked him over and tried again, walking toward the dresser. “You only agonize about clothes if there's a red carpet involved.” Zach rummaged around in a drawer as Chris chewed his lip.

“We always open presents in our pajamas. I’m not used to getting cleaned up. Does she want us dressed up? Picture ready?”

“Nah,” Zach answered, pulling out his “Bah Humbug” t-shirt. “She just doesn’t like everything to be over before she’s finished her first cup of coffee. Clean, yes; dressy, no. T-shirt, sweats—whatever you need to be comfortable.”

Chris glanced at him and then back to the closet, clearly unconvinced.

“Here,” Zach said, reaching in. “I packed your favorite old-man cardigan. Nice and soft. Wear that with one of your stretched-neck t-shirts and get your cute ass downstairs so we can open presents.”

Chris huffed a laugh, still seeming out of his element. “You sure?”

“Yeah, baby. You’re over-thinking this. Grab a shower and get back down before Nathan explodes with anticipation. And you, too. I saw you shaking your packages.”

“Only the one,” Chris said in his defense, though the sheepish, sideways look he gave Zach showed he hadn’t realized he’d been caught.

Zach grinned and moved in to kiss the faint pink growing on Chris’ cheek. “God I love it when you blush,” he murmured against Chris’ skin. And he really shouldn’t feel pleasure at anything that made Chris uncomfortable, like not knowing his way around Quinto family traditions, but that blush had always been his kryptonite.

Chris huffed an awkward laugh and quiet “fucker.”

“Hmmm,” Zach agreed, pushing his fingers through Chris’ hair. It’d been a while since he’d been a fucker in the _literal_ sense, but he wasn’t going to complain about that now. “Shower. Presents. If you need help…” He pulled Chris closer with a teasing trail of his hand.

“I think I’ll manage,” Chris laughed, pushing Zach away and looking more at ease. “You go distract your mom.”

“Mom’s fine. Keeping Nathan from opening all the presents will be harder. So hurry.” Zach backed his way to the door, appreciating Chris’ sleep rumpled hair before turning to leave. Last year it had just been the three of them, they had stayed in pajamas most of the day, only getting dressed when it was time to head to Chris’ parents’ home for dinner. He hadn’t realized at the time that it was a Pine family tradition. The offer to let Chris stay as he was, formed on the tip of his tongue, but Chris moved across the hall to the bathroom, and he realized Chris wouldn’t be comfortable being the only person not cleaned and changed anyway.

“Daddy!”

“Coming.” He shook his head, wondering for a moment what other Pine family traditions he’d missed.

Chris joined them about fifteen minutes later, shaved and looking moderately festive in his red t-shirt and black cardigan, fiddling with his phone before pocketing it. Nathan spied him and let out a squeal, running over and jumping into his arms and then quickly squirming back down and running to the presents under the tree. Zach caught his mom’s eye, grinning, and she stood and took one more “before” picture of the tree with all the gifts neatly underneath and Nathan eyeing them with toddler-longing. Chris couldn’t resist the opportunity to pick up his camera and take a series of Nathan poking at the gifts. And then his mom insisted on the three of them sitting in front of the tree together, and took a family portrait that didn’t look too far off from the ones last year, except that Nathan had already pulled a bow off the present he wanted to open first, clutching it in his little hand.

Chris took the bow and stuck in on the top of Nathan’s head. “Thanks for waiting, Little Man. Is this the present you want to open first?” Chris motioned to the bowless package and sat down next to Zach, squeezing his leg for a moment before accepting the coffee mug Zach handed him.

“It big,” Nathan said, dragging the large present he’d wanted to open earlier away from the tree and looking toward them hopefully.

“It sure is,” Chris said, turning to Zach with an eyebrow quirked. Zach raised his mug in salute.

“On your mark, get set…” and Nathan tore at the paper.

“It Bar!” Nathan cried.

“Yeah,” Chris said, setting down his coffee and helping get the bear free. “It’s Paddington. Just like in our book from last night.” Chris stood the bear on the floor next to Nathan. It was almost as tall as him.

“Boots!”

“Yup, he’s got his Wellies on, so he can stand, and his blue coat and red hat, and look,” Chris turned the little tag that was looped over a button of the coat to show Nathan the messy note.

“What say?”

“‘Please look after this bear’,” Chris read. “Think you can do that?”

“Yeah!” Nathan picked the bear up and carried it awkwardly over to sofa. “Bar sit,” he explained as he got Paddington situated next to Margo, covering him up slightly with the afghan from the sofa back.

Zach leaned over over to whisper into Chris’ ear, “Looks like Winnie the Pooh has some competition.”

“Hmmm,” Chris agreed. “Better toys and more books.”

“I’m guessing there’s a good collection of them under the tree.”

“Maybe,” Chris whispered, the corner of his mouth raising and proving impossible to resist.

Zach leaned in and kissed it, warmed both by Chris’ gift and Nathan’s obvious care for it, and his own ability to predict how Chris thinks. “How many books are there?”

“A hundred and fifty or so.”

That _was_ surprising, and based on Chris’ laugh, it must has shown.

“Don’t worry, they aren’t _all_ under the tree. I don’t even think they’re all in print. I just got a starter pack.”

A ‘starter pack’ for some might be three books. For a bibliophile like Chris… Well, the day would reveal it, but Zach was putting good money on somewhere between fifteen and twenty.

“What’s next?” he asked, moving the empty box out of way and grabbing another. “Here, Nathan, try this one.”

They slowly made their way through the pile. It was easier to go slowly than Zach expected, because Nathan wanted to play with each item after he opened it. He was momentarily a train engineer, a dolphin trainer, a Jedi, a musician, and an astronaut. When he got the first of the Paddington books, he actually took it to the sofa so he could “read” to “Bar” for a while. They all took pictures of that.

The rest of them opened gifts, too, despite having promised each other that they would focus on Nathan and not go overboard with purchases for each other. Chris was thrilled with History of Hollywood coffee table book, which had pictures of the studios when his grandmother had acted. There was also a sizable stack of Blu-ray discs that they’d given each other to convert films they already had only on DVD and to round out their collection. His mom was pleased with several of the practical gifts Zach gave her — things from her wish list — but even more so with the “Nonna’s Brag Book” he’d compiled with pictures of Nathan from the last year, plus pictures of his artworks. Chris had surprised him by bringing Margo a beautiful pair of silver earrings from England. She was over the moon for those, too.

Coffee mugs were refilled and the fire was stoked, and Christmas music shifted from Frank Sinatra to Barbra Streisand to the Carpenters, Zach sharing a cringe-filled glance with Chris when his mom put on that last one. She still played each cd separately. It was almost quaint. But it all felt perfect — happy and relaxed — except for the occasional buzz of Chris’ phone, which would cause him to glance at the display and then quickly darken the screen and turn the phone down on the table. It sat there, a constant reminder that Chris was still a bit on call. Because he hated technology so much that Zach was sure he’d only be monitoring his phone if he had to for work. Chris was obviously trying to keep the invasion of their holiday minimal, and Zach was torn between feelings of resentment, pride that Chris was so successful, and if he were honest with himself, a tiny bit of jealousy. There’d been a time when he was in more demand than he was now. Nathan was worth the slowing of his career, but he couldn't help being a bit wistful at times.

Nathan brought over a toy he needed removing from the packaging, distracting Zach from brooding and reminding him to be present in the moment and that Chris was _here_ , despite all the other pulls on his attention. Zach got the toy free, and they all smiled as Nathan introduced BB-8 to Bar and told them to share and be good. Chris leaned back against him, solid and warm as they watched their son.

More presents were passed out. New gloves for his mom. A shirt for Chris. Stories were told with many of the gifts, and then Margo asked Chris what Christmases of his childhood were like. He took a sip of coffee before responding.

“Well, they were pretty casual,” he answered. “We didn’t even usually get dressed until after lunch… definitely not until all the presents were opened. I think it’s because Hanukkah was always so formal — I had to wear a suit and Katie and I would practice the prayers in Hebrew for a week so we could say them correctly in front of my grandmother, despite barely knowing the language — so Christmas became a holiday just for immediate family. Really fun with almost no pressure. Lots of gag gifts. I’ve always liked it. I enjoy picking out presents for people.”

Zach froze, feeling off-center. These were things he should know about Chris, weren’t they? But the topic had never come up. He knew Gwynne was Jewish, but he hadn’t really considered what that meant for Chris’ childhood. Or present, for that matter.

“Do you still celebrate Hanukkah, dear?”

Chris shook his head. “Mom does, though it’s way more low key now that so much of her family has passed on and Katie and I have grown up. I think Katie’s family tries to go over for at least one night, but I’ve been away from home the last several years, and I haven’t really been bothered to do it on my own. This was the first year I’d lit a candle since…god, I’m not even sure.”

“You celebrated this year?” Zach felt like he was almost intruding on the conversation.

“Yeah. You know, Gal’s from Israel, and there were several others on the cast and crew who wanted to celebrate. So she brought a menorah to the set, and at sunset every night they gave us a half hour break and we all got together, lit the candles, said the prayers, and then talked for a while until we got called back on set. By the third night the hospitality crew got in on it and made latkes and these jelly donut things that are traditional in Israel. It became sort of party for everyone.”

His mom nodded and smiled, turning to Nathan who was by her elbow now with Bar. Zach wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but it was not a good thing. Hollow. And cold.

“You celebrated Hanukkah with Gal?” he asked softly, still not sure what it meant or why it was bothering him so much. He guessed he didn’t like the idea that someone other than family understood parts of Chris better than he did. Which was ridiculous. Chris had just said this wasn’t that important to him, and it’s not like they talked about their childhood exposures to religion. Zach had never told Chris any details of being an altar boy.

Chris was giving him a strange look. “Well, and about twenty other people. She was just the organizer. The rest of us probably would have let it slip by, but it’s important to her, so she made sure it happened. I can’t even remember the last time I celebrated every night. You need a critical mass to maintain momentum that long, I think. It was sort of cool.”

Zach swallowed against something thick in his throat and nodded.

“Daddy, who present?” Nathan asked, holding out a gift so Zach could read the tag.

He turned, relieved for the distraction. “Uh, that one’s for Babbo,” he said, not needing to see the tag. He’d wrapped it himself, after all.

Chris got a grin on his face, holding out his big hand to Nathan. “Let’s see… I think it’s a… Movie!”

It was clearly not the shape of a Blu-ray disc, and Nathan giggled and shook his head.

“Um, how about a basketball?”

Nathan giggled again and shook his head harder. “It book!” he predicted.

“A book? You think Daddy would give me a book? Well, I _do_ like books.” He tore at the paper revealing a copy of “Daring Greatly” by Brene Brown. “Oh, wow! I’ve been wanting to read this.” He opened the hardcover and saw the inscription. “You got a signed copy?”

Zach shrugged, chewing his lip. “She did a reading in town, and I knew you had that quote scribbled in one of your Moleskines. And then after I heard the reading… I really thought it was something you’d appreciate. I’ve heard you say similar things.”

Chris’ smile was incandescent. “‘To Christopher,’” he read, “‘It sounds like we both appreciate Roosevelt’s sentiment and try take to heart that it is better to DO and risk failure than to worry about — or worse yet be — a critic. I hope you enjoy the book and have a merry Christmas with your family. Brene Brown.’ This is great, Zach, thank you.” He leaned over and gave Zach a kiss. “Did you tell her about me? It sounds like you talked.”

“I was near the end of the line. I thought she might just rush through us to get out of there, but she actually seemed to be more willing to chat as the line got shorter. I told her my fiancé also loved that quote from Roosevelt, and she asked me your name. When I said Chris, she started to write it with a “K”, so I corrected her, saying it was short for Christopher. That got her attention. So, I told her a little of our story, and that you were the bravest man I knew, stepping in to help me and then later coming out at this point in your career, and how you’re balancing so much now, and, well…” He motioned toward the inscription. “She put the book that I had bought aside and pulled out a clean book from a box under the table, told me it was one of the last of her first editions, and that she saved them for special signings. And then she wrote that.”

Chris’ eyes were glistening. He pulled Zach back down and whispered “thank you” against his lips before giving him a kiss that was probably just over the line considering his mom and Nathan were in the room. He noticed his mom looking studiously away with a small grin as they broke the kiss. Nathan was staring.

Chris cleared his throat. “Nathan, why don’t you get Daddy that green one over there? No, that’s blue. The green one next to it.” Nathan carried the package over to Zach.

“Thank you, Nathan. What do you think it is?”

“Songs!”

“Maybe. Could be a CD or Blu-ray. Let’s see.”

He tore at the paper to reveal a used DVD...of Under Milk Wood, though it didn’t look like a production he was familiar with. He looked at Chris for an explanation.

“The very first production of Under Milk Wood was in 1953, before the radio play, before Dylan Thomas died. _He_ actually read First Voice. And they recorded it, with just one mic center stage. It was crap, of course, getting louder and softer depending on where people were standing. But then some grad student in sound engineering digitized it and played with it until he got it sounding right, and made a bunch of copies to prove that his methods worked so well. “But I guess he didn’t have permission from Thomas’ trust. So most were collected and there’s some legal thing ongoing, about whether he should be sued or paid a bunch of money for making the recording acceptable to a modern audience. Anyway Rhedyn, my makeup person, is almost militantly Welsh. When I was trying to make conversation about the only Welsh thing I knew about other than Tom Jones, I mentioned that you had always wanted to be in that play. And she wouldn’t rest until she helped me find a copy.”

“So it’s a bootleg?” Zach asked, grinning.

“It’s a high quality bootleg of the first recording of the play, with Dylan Thomas’ voice. There are commercial versions on CD available now, but this is better. And he didn’t even finish the script until the day it _previewed_ , so this is the first quality-remastered recording of the whole thing.”

“Oh my god, what a nightmare for the actors.”

“I know! Can you imagine? I bet he was terrible to work with.” Chris was grinning, too. “This disc also has visual elements superimposed on the voice recording. Pictures of New Quay where he wrote and Laugharne where he lived for a while. And black and white stills from that first production. Oh, and did you know the town’s name, Llareggub, isn’t a really Welsh word? It looks like it because of the double-L, but it’s actually “bugger all” spelled backwards.”

“Oh, god that's fantastic. I had no idea.”

“Well, I’ve had a crash course on all things Welsh. Apparently some people tried to make it properly Welsh, getting rid or the double-g and switching the u for a y, but that just pissed him off—”

“Because they weren’t getting his joke.”

“Exactly. It was an insulting lack of insight and subtlety, an anathema to his poet’s heart.”

Chris looked pleased, as if he’d feel the same and was glad Zach understood.

“Thank you, baby.” Zach leaned in to give Chris a kiss.

By the time they got though the majority of the presents, Nathan was clearly ready for his morning nap, but too excited to go quietly. It put everyone on edge, torn between wanting to enjoy the rest of the gifts and rush through so he could go to bed without missing anything important. He also wasn’t interested in playing elf anymore, curling up on the sofa between BB-8 and Bar and barely mustering up excitement enough to tear the packaging off the presents that were shaped like clothes boxes.

“Next year, whispered Chris, “we’re wrapping all the clothes in Amazon boxes so he can’t tell toys from new pajamas from the outside.”

“I’m sure that will backfire in some spectacular way, but okay. And I can’t even blame him. At his age, I hated getting clothes for Christmas, too.”

“And at your age?”

Zach grinned. “You know me so well.”

Chris grinned and then looked off into the distance, thoughtful. “When I was a kid we mostly got clothes for Hanukkah so we’d have them to wear during the Christmas parties.”

That sounded like a bummer. Eight nights of clothes. He made a mental note to ask Chris more about his childhood traditions. It sounded like they weren’t all worth keeping, but it was clear that blending some blending of the Quinto and Pine traditions was in order. And he definitely needed to read up on Hanukkah and the other holidays. Nathan snuggled on the sofa with BB-8 and Bar, and Zach took over handing out gifts while Chris snapped a few more photos.

“This one’s for you,” Zach told Chris as he delivered the last round of gifts.

Chris shook the narrow, blue box, raising his eyebrows when he felt how light it was. He tore at the paper and lifted the lid to uncover two tickets.

“ _Grey Gardens_ is coming back to L.A.?” His smile was everything Zach could have hoped for.

“I know you missed it when it was on Broadway, and we were both shooting Trek when it came through the first time. I’ve read reviews; this cast is supposed to be as good as the original. The date…” Chris’ face fell as he looked at the tickets more closely. “I had to guess on the date. I know your film schedule is still fluid, so if this isn’t going to work, I can exchange them once for free to any other date during the run. Or I can return them for credit if you’re going to be out of town the whole run.” He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, but the look on Chris’ face made it clear that the date wasn’t going to work. This had been a stupid idea. He knew Chris’ schedule was completely impacted, but that particular weekend wasn’t spoken for yet — at least in the electronic calendar they shared — and he’d wanted something firm for a gift. Something to look forward to.

His mom was looking back and forth at them, and Nathan was collapsing on the sofa again and turning so that his feet were high along the back, which he _knew_ there were rules against, but no one seemed to have the heart to enforce them at the moment. The Christmas music suddenly felt oppressively cheerful.

“I’ll try, Zach. They’re starting to schedule the sound-stage work, and that’s in England, too. But I’ll try to keep this free. If I have any say, I’ll keep it free and be in town.”

“It’s fine,” Zach said, scanning the floor for a distraction. “Whatever happens. We’ll roll with it. I certainly understand how crazy film schedules can be.” And he did. He really did. This wasn’t Chris’ fault. He grabbed the package next to him. “This one for me?”

Chris nodded, though he still looked worried. Or guilty. Or something that had no place on Christmas day. Zach forced a smile and tore into the package.

 

It was a delicate, cable-knit sweater made out of soft, fine yarn rather than the usual bulky wool. But what was really striking were the bold horizontal stripes of off-white and dark charcoal, and the cut of the sweater: tapered and fitted, with a raised collar that made it look almost chic. It looked modern, the cable knit only adding subtle dimension when one looked more closely. Zach held it up, admiring the weight and drape of it.

It was going to look awesome on him.

“This from England too?” he asked. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah. This little store in the town we were shooting in had all these hand-made sweaters. And most looked like they were for fisherman, but there was a section in the back with other fibers — alpaca and angora and such — and this one… well, it reminded me a bit of that sweater you wore to death a few years ago, you know the one.”

“I know the one. The dry cleaner ruined it.”

“And you mourned for a month and threatened to sue. I thought this might serve as an adequate replacement.”

“I mourned for a year, I think. And this is actually nicer than that sweater. Thank you! I can’t believe you found time to shop for Christmas with everything else you had going on.” Zach folded the sweater carefully and placed it back in the box. He was definitely wearing it next time they went out.

“We didn’t have a lot of time off for shopping, but Gal had scoped things out and showed me the best shops in town.”

Zach stiffened. It shouldn’t matter, but now that name was curdling every happy Christmas thought, and the picture he’d been suppressing fairly successfully all day flooded his mind. “Gal went Christmas shopping with you?”

“Uh, yeah. One of our afternoons off.”

“Did she help you pick this sweater?”

Chris was giving him that look again. The confused, annoyed where-are-you-going-with-this look.

“Not really, I mean she was _there_ , helping me look through the stacks, but I chose the sweater. How could she help me choose? She doesn’t even know you.”

Zach just couldn’t seem to move beyond the vision of the two of them shopping together — something he’d wanted to do all _fucking_ December. The silence in the room was interrupted by Chris’ phone buzzing, and something in Zach snapped. He stood as Chris quickly silenced the phone without checking it..

“Presents all gone?” Nathan asked, having roused with the buzz of the phone.

Zach turned and looked at the tree. Sure enough there was just ruined, crumpled paper underneath. Thank fucking god.

“I think so,” he said, avoiding meeting Chris’ eyes. “So that means nap time.”

“Nat’an not sleepy,” the boy said through a yawn.

“Uh-huh. Well, Bar looks tired, so maybe you can keep him company. Daddy’s going to use the bathroom, and then we’ll read a quick story, okay?” He was moving toward the stairs before anyone could answer, taking them two at a time. He needed just a few minutes of space to pull himself together, because he was actually getting a prickling in his eyes, and he was not about to fucking _cry_ in front of his son on Christmas day. He closed the door to their bedroom and tried to control his breathing. He felt foolish and frustrated and jealous that Chris would spend all his free time with Gal but not Skype with him on any kind of regular schedule, and the two of them seemed so intimate and _god_ , he’d almost let Chris fuck him last night, and he’d feel even more awful now if he had.

Zach was gulping for air. Not sobbing. Definitely not crying in any way at all. He just couldn’t seem to get any air. The door opened, and he spun around as Chris slipped in and shut it again behind him, watching Zach warily.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Zach made sure his breathing was steady before asking, “Where’s Nathan?”

“Your mom’s driving him around the neighborhood to look at Christmas lights and hopefully fall asleep. And give us space to deal with whatever this is.” Chris motioned between them with his hand.

Zach turned to face the wall. He was _not_ ready to deal with this yet.

Chris lost whatever patience he’d come in with. “What is your _problem_? I mean, I know it’s been a rough winter, but I thought we were okay. But then everytime I mention Gal’s name, you go all stiff and wounded. I’m allowed to have friends, Zach. I’m allowed—”

Zach pulled his phone out of his pocket, swiped to the picture, and held it in front of Chris’ face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, MANY thanks to Punk and Ducky, who are my heroes and the only reason I publish anything anymore. I've tweaked a bit since their last review, so any mistakes are my own. Ready? If you'll recall, Zach just shoved that picture under Chris' nose...

“What’s this?” Chris asked, frowning at the phone.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been asking myself these last two weeks.”

Chris’ brow furrowed as he looked at Zach and then reached for the phone, hunching a little as he took it and pulled it toward his face. Zach watched as Chris dragged his fingers apart against the screen, zooming in. And whatever spectrum of reactions Zach had prepared himself for — defensiveness, anger, guilt, pleading — this confused, pondering silence wasn’t among them.

“It’s me and Gal.” It was almost a question, the way Chris’ voice lilted up at the end. Almost, but not quite.

“I’d gotten that far on my own, actually.”

Chris looked up, seemingly surprised at the acid in Zach’s voice. After a moment he ducked his head to study the photo again, zooming back out and examining the surroundings. Because somehow that was more important than the fucking kiss. 

Zach took a deep breath and tried to reign in his emotions. Sarcasm wasn’t going to help in this conversation, but Zach felt raw and nearly as exhausted as Chris still looked, and if Chris was playing innocent with him—

“This isn’t our set, though,” Chris added as if he were trying to think it through… as if he couldn’t place the memory of _kissing_ someone else.

“You’re not shooting,” Zach said, his voice cracking less than he’d expected. “There are no lights. No cameras.” Just action. 

Chris looked up sharply, this time really studying Zach’s face and body language. As the moment stretched, Zach’s posture and crossed arms felt suddenly heavy and ridiculous under his gaze. He unclenched his fists, watching emotions flicker across Chris’ face and bracing himself. He wasn't even sure for what. Would Chris crumble and beg forgiveness? Would he somehow place the blame for his indiscretions back on Zach? Whatever the case, this moment — Chris’ reaction _right now_ — was going to spin their lives off in any number of different directions. They’d been carefully balanced on what felt like an increasingly narrow ledge. Somehow, something was about to topple.

“Wait. Did you think…” Chris gaze continued to flit over Zach’s face, as if he could read every fear and emotion. “You thought I’d _cheated_ on you and you let me _touch_ you last night? Jesus Christ, Zach, what were you thinking?”

That… that was not something he’d expected. 

“What was I thinking?” he asked incredulously, anger starting to flare. “I was thinking that it felt _good_! That I’d missed you! That it was a relief you still wanted me, even with…” he waved his hand at the phone, ”whatever happened. I was thinking that I didn't _want_ it to be true. But your costars _always_ fall for you, and sometimes you fall back.”

“She’s _married_ , Zach, and so am I, nearly.” Hurt was the overriding emotion on Chris’ face. Not guilt. “And the last costar I fell for was _you_. I can't believe you jumped to this based on one blurry picture.”

“It's not just the picture. You know it isn't. You’ve been more and more distant lately. You’ve barely reached out to us the last few weeks. Nathan kept asking when Babbo would “talk in sky” with us, and I kept having to make excuses.” Now Chris looked away with guilt. “ _And_ there's the wedding.”

Chris blanched. His face was positively bleak now. “The wedding.” He sounded numb as he scrubbed a hand down his face and then rested it on his hip. Defensive. Resigned? Zach wasn’t sure. “What have I done wrong regarding the wedding?”

It was his weary tone that made Zach pause. Something in the room had shifted, and suddenly Zach felt like the one being an asshole. Confused, he shrugged and quietly said, “You’ve just… it seems you’re really reluctant to make concrete plans. Venues. Dates. It makes me wonder how serious you are. Maybe… maybe you just said ‘yes’ in a fit of romantic—”

“Jesus,” Chris said, looking at the ceiling and trying to school his features. Tears were welling in his eyes, making them heartbreakingly blue.

Zach wasn't sure what he was feeling. This —Chris on the verge of tears — this wasn't what he'd expected. Chris seemed to struggle for a moment. After a few steadying breaths he said, “I had no idea we’d slipped this far off the rails. How long have you felt this way? About the wedding?”

Zach thought for a moment, looking down at his socked feet. “I guess since you shot down the place in Malibu. You didn't really give me much of a reason for not liking it.”

Silence hung thick and heavy in the room, interrupted only by Chris’ occasional sniffs and Zach’s own shallow breathing. He should feel better, having all this off his chest — it had even been easy after the initial plunge — but he was miserable in anticipation. Zach felt his own lack of control, like he’d thrown himself in a river and was now at the mercy of currents he couldn’t predict. 

“So let’s see if I’ve got this. You think I haven’t wanted to marry you for _months_ , I’ve been actively avoiding family time, and I _cheated_ on you while out of the country. Does that pretty much cover everything?”

Zach’s stomach dropped. Hearing it like that, all strung together with none of the other possible interpretations, made it seem utterly hopeless. He gave the faintest of shrugs, unable to do more than hold himself together in the face of Chris’ sorrow. Because it was sorrow he saw in Chris’ expression more than anything else.

Chris wiped his face again, taking another deep breath. “Okay, to start with, this,” he said, holding up the phone, “was rehearsing.”

“You had to rehearse a kiss?” Zach asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” Chris huffed a rueful laugh. “Turns out I did. Which is a little embarrassing actually.”

He moved over to the bed and sat, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor a few feet ahead of him. “We’d gone over the scene a bunch of times, Gal and I, and come up with a few different ways to play it so Patty would have a few options, you know? But we’d always stopped when we got to the kiss, because it was just a kiss. No big deal. 

“The first time we shot it — with lights and all the crew ready — we absolutely nailed the dialog and the emotion of the scene. I felt totally in character; I saw Diana, not Gal. I went in for the kiss, and… I don’t know. It felt strange. It’d been so long since I kissed a woman. What flashed through my mind was, ‘where’s the stubble?’ I broke character and actually grunted a little ‘huh,’ and then Gal broke out laughing and Patty yelled ‘Cut!’ and I turned the color of that scarf downstairs. It was nearly lunch, so Patty told us to come back in an hour and do what it took to have that not happen again.

“I offered to go again immediately, trying to be the professional that I usually am, but the blush wasn’t going away anytime soon. So Gal, being my _friend_ ,” he said pointedly, still not looking at Zach, “took me over to concessions and sat with me during lunch, distracted me until I could look her in the face again, and then told me I only got 10 minutes to mope in my trailer before she was dragging me out for rehearsal. And that I’d better brush my teeth.”

Zach shifted uneasily, leaning a hip awkwardly against the dresser as Chris huffed another embarrassed laugh, shaking his head at the memory. Chris looked mortified. And Zach had been embarrassed on set before — all actors had. He knew exactly how that felt, and now a part of him just wanted to hear the rest of the story holding Chris’ hands and assuring him it couldn’t have been that bad. But the distance between them seemed an endless gulf. 

“She found us a secluded corner, away from prying eyes — so we thought — and asked what had happened. And I had to explain that her height and lack of stubble had startled me and made me analyze the kiss, which pulled me out of character. And she didn’t laugh — which she totally could have — she just said it was understandable, and why didn’t we try again from about four lines back. So we did, and this time when I kissed her I didn’t break character, but I was still drawing on... “ Chris took a deep breath. “To get that feeling for Steve, that terror and exhilaration and sense of being almost sure you’re right and this kiss is welcome, but _oh_ if you’re wrong it’s so, _so_ bad. To get all that, I was thinking of the first time I kissed you. 

“You were… man, you were just _not_ hearing what I was trying to tell you, and I remember this moment, I could almost hear a voice in my head whispering ‘jump!’ So I did. I leaned in like I’d wanted to a hundred times before, but had always not, and when our lips touched my stomach actually flipped like I was falling. I poured everything I had into that kiss — everything that I didn’t seem to have words for… or maybe the words I had didn’t reach you. And there was this horrible moment that lasted an _eon_ when I was sure I’d made a terrible, terrible mistake. And then, suddenly it wasn’t a mistake at all. I wasn’t falling. I was flying. And it was perfect.”

Zach lost the battle with tears at the same time Chris did, and he watched with blurred vision as wiped his face again and sniffed loudly. Zach made an aborted move toward him because this felt wrong… for them to both be upset and not comforting each other. Everything Chris had said was so beautiful, Zach’s heart ached. That was just how Zach remembered their first kiss, too. His own shocked stillness in the face of Chris’ passion, until his mind caught up and realized he _could_ have what he wanted. The joy of that moment shouldn’t be juxtaposed now with Chris’ red, blotchy, pained, _dear_ face _._

“Chris…” he started, faltering.

“It worked,” Chris interrupted, holding out the phone or Zach to take, still not looking at him. “We nailed the scene over and over after that. Patty got about six takes and was completely happy and told us to leave early, because the next day was all action and she wanted us rested.”

Zach moved forward and took the phone, not quite daring to speak again. Chris dropped his arm, resting forward on his knees again, closed off. For long moments,neither spoke, and just as Zach was working up the courage to try to break the silence again, Chris cleared his throat and looked up at him.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Zach. Gal is a _beautiful_ girl. Possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.” The words stabbed through Zach’s breath, making him feel weak. “But she’s a _married woman_ , and even if I weren’t stupidly, painfully in love with you, I’d never have touched her. But I am. So much so that when her family joined us earlier in the month for Hanukkah, she was able to tell her husband all our stories. I’d talked about you and Nathan so much that she didn’t even ask me to help, I just sat back and drank my wine and listened to our story being told like it was a fairy tale. And Yaron’s great, too, surprisingly down to earth, and their little girl is five, not really that much older than Nathan. I actually invited them over to the house for a barbecue when they’re in L.A. for the premiere, because it’s always nice for us to know other actors with families. I like them, Zach; I want us to be friends. She’s not… there’s no _competition_ for you. I’d never endanger what we have like that. I watched that nonsense when I was growing up, you know? My parents were always very clear on who they were and what they had, but I watched my friend’s parents separate over stupid infidelities, and those situations had no winners. They were painful for everyone involved. We’ve talked about that, Zach. We’ve talked about my need for fidelity.” 

Zach nodded. They had talked about it, though at the time Zach had taken it more as a warning, since he’d had pseudo-open relationships in the past, or times when either he or his partner hadn’t finished what they were in before starting the next thing. And he knew it was a promise as well, but with how much they’d been separated recently...

Chris sighed and rubbed his face again. It was still blotchy, though he looked a bit less like he was about to cry. He stood from the bed and moved to the dresser, forcing Zach to move back out of his way.

“So that’s that one.” Chris turned and leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, looking uncomfortable. “In terms of dropping off in communication the last few weeks, you’re absolutely right, and I’m sorry. It was bad form, I just…” he paused and looked away for a moment while Zach waited in suspense wondering what could have come up to interrupt their family talks. “I just really hate Skype.”

Wait, _what_? “What?”

“Skype. I hate it. After filming all day and finally getting some food and a shower, I hate seeing myself all green and from a strange angle looking literally ill in the corner of my laptop screen. I always end up shifting around, trying to hold myself differently to make myself passable for… whoever I’m filming this for.”

“But we don’t care what you look like. We just want to see you.”

“I know, I know, and I like seeing you guys, but after long filming days, when I’m thinking literally for 14-16 hours about how my gait and posture and expression are being read by the camera, it’s just really hard to turn it off. And there’s no way for me to not look green and tired and ill in that little camera in the laptop. You still look good green, maybe because I’m used to thinking you look hot as Spock, but I _really_ don’t. And I’m even more self conscious if I have to use my phone, because then I’m trying to hold it so the angle is at least good, and I’m thinking so hard about that I’m distracted and not hearing what you’re telling me, and it’s frustrating. After a month I just started avoiding it. Texting instead. Trying to call, but every time I did, you’d ask to Skype.

“And I know it was ridiculous and selfish, but I was just so exhausted all the time, and I couldn’t make myself do it. And I guess I convinced myself that it was fine, because you were busy too, and we’d always had periods of time when we didn’t talk, but then we’d get back together and everything was fine. I mean, our friendship was always like that. And I was thinking about you guys, I was Christmas shopping for you...I still felt close to you. But now I know you weren’t feeling the same.”

He started tearing up again, wiping his face and looking away. This time Zach felt empowered to approach him, going so far as brushing a thumb against his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Chris almost whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t want to talk with you. I was thinking about you all the time. I’ll try to be better when I go back.”

Zach let out a shaky breath and pulled Chris in for a hug. Chris clung to him. And this was so much better. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked. Tears were forming in his own eyes as well, but he was feeling more relief than anything. 

“You were always so excited, getting Nathan to show off for me whatever he’d be doing that day.”

Zach squeezed him tighter. “I wasn’t thinking about it from your side. It’s been so long since I’ve been on that sort of shoot, though I guess I’ll be getting back to it when we go back to Trek in a few months. But that’s different, because we’re all together. I didn’t mean to make it a chore for you.”

“Talking to you isn’t a chore, Zach. I swear it isn’t.”

“But Skyping is. And Nathan loves it, but we don’t have to do it every time. We can make it a special thing we do for Nathan’s benefit, and when it’s just us we can be on the phone, and you can lay down and close your eyes and not be ‘on’. You shouldn’t have to be ‘on’ to talk to me.”

There were a few seconds of silence. “That...that sounds good, actually. But I’ll try to remember how hard it is to be a single dad and make sure you don’t feel alone. That’s not fair of me, no matter how busy I am.”

Something that had weighed on his chest for weeks loosened slightly as he squeezed Chris and said, “It’s not so bad. Some people are single dads all the time.”

“Don’t,” Chris said, pulling out of the hug so he could look at Zach. “Don’t act like I’m doing you a favor or you don’t deserve what you need from me. You’re not a single dad, Zach. You haven't been since Nathan was only weeks old. And if you feel like you are, I’m screwing up. And I need you to help me know when that's happening before things unravel too far.”

Zach shook his head slightly and swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I just… You’re so tired, Chris. I don't want to put pressure on you. I’m sorry I let myself get jealous. I just…”

Chris waited to see if he would finish, but Zach couldn't articulate what he saw as the gaping hole of his own failings. He didn't like to admit the fear that he could usually keep at bay. The fear (admittedly _irrational_ ) that the people he’d lost from his life so far were just the beginning. That asking Chris for what he needed would push him too far… push him away. And Chris was the _last_ person, other than Nathan, that he could ever bear to lose. 

But Chris, being _Chris_ , somehow saw it all on Zach’s face. His expression softened and raised a hand to Zach's cheek.

“You're right. I've been insanely busy and utterly exhausted. Which means I’m missing things. I’m going to miss things unless you help me see them. What you’ve been thinking… I _never_ want you thinking those things. And I hate that you did. Hate that you’d think me capable of that.” His breathing was heavier as he tried not to cry. “But I can see it. From where you’re standing, with the information you had, with your… your history, I can see how you got there. But we can’t… Please, Zach. We can’t let that happen again. Help me see when you need something. I don’t want you...satisfied with something tepid and disappointing. We both need more than that. _Deserve_ more than that. And I’ll...” Chris chewed his lip, eyes watery again. “I’ll try to be better, too. About saying what I need.”

Chris wasn’t getting what he needed? “About Skyping?” Zach asked, hoping that might be the worst of it, but knowing there was probably more. 

“Well, yeah. But we’ve found a compromise for that. Other things.” His face grew weary again, and Zach’s stomach went cold. “My schedule… well, our schedules. And… and the wedding.”

The wedding. With all that Zach had been wrong about, had he actually been right about that? 

“Do you… I mean, if you don’t—”

Chris’ eyes widened as the floor rumbled, signalling the opening of the garage door. He spun to look at himself in the mirror over the dresser, Zach watching as he noted his bright, bloodshot eyes and blotchy face. 

“Zach, I can’t face your mom like this.” Their eyes met in their reflection. “You look okay. Go help her and I’ll… I’ll just hide in here. Tell her I’m napping or something.” Chris’ sounded trapped, and Zach could only imagine how awkward it would be to stay in the room with everyone else just outside the door.

“We can both stay here,” he said, hoping that it would be easier on Chris if they were together. And Zach didn’t want to give up on this conversation when they were on the verge of something so important . “Mom will handle putting him down. If you’re having doubts about getting married I’d rather—”

The sound of Nathan’s crying cut through his words — muffled but insistent. And a flash of something bordering on panic and irritation bloomed on Chris’ face. 

“Zach, I’m not... it’s not that I don’t want—”

Nathan’s crying grew worse, causing them both to turn toward the door.

“Something’s wrong. That’s not his tired cry.” 

Chris nodded and wiped his eyes, listening. After a moment he said, “We should go. We’ll just... I don’t know what we’ll tell her. It’ll be obvious I’ve been upset and I really don’t want to face those questions, but—”

“No, it’s okay,” Zach interrupted. Any thoughts they could just stay in their room and ignore the arrival were gone. “I’ll go, and you…” God, Chris looked terrible. On the verge of tears again. Zach wasn’t even sure he’d be safe from scrutiny hiding in their room, but he was sure Chris would be miserable. And that couldn’t help his cause of convincing Chris that they would be okay. They were finally _talking_ , and certainly had more to discuss, but right now his overwhelming need was to rescue Chris and their relationship from prying eyes and well-intended questions.

“Take a walk,” he blurted out. “Your coat and boots and gloves and everything are by the kitchen door. Take a walk, and when you get back your whole face will be pink from the cold, and no one will know. There’s a trail down the road to a playground, or you can go across the main street to the nature area. Just… we need to finish this. Just come back.” 

Light flashed in Chris’ eyes. “Always,” he grasped Zach’s hands fiercely and hesitated just a moment before turning and opening a drawer in the dresser, rummaging under some underwear and retrieving a Moleskine rubber-banded together with several thin paperbacks. He thrust it into Zach’s hands. “Read this.” Then he took Zach’s face in both hands and gave him a scorchingly hot, knee-weakening kiss. And he was gone. Zach was still swaying on his feet with his eyes closed when he heard the kitchen door slam shut, followed shortly by the car door. He looked down at the bundle in his hand. The Moleskine wasn’t the plain black or brown that Chris usually favored. It was tan with an intricate scrollwork around the edges and a stylized tree in the center. It looked vaguely Celtic, but the design was more delicate and less structured. It was beautiful. Zach was tempted to open it right then, but the muffled sound of Nathan’s crying had him shoving the thin bundle in his back pocket instead. He looked in the mirror to make sure his face didn’t show any turmoil, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders.

He was on the steps when the garage door opened. 

“Hey, Little Man,” he cooed, taking Nathan from his mom. “What happened?”

Nathan just clung to him as Margo explained, “He had an accident, and I forgot to take the diaper bag with me. He was almost asleep. I’m sorry we’re back so soon, I meant to give you boys more time.”

“It’s fine,” he said, carrying his son up the stairs. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay, Nathan? Did you see some nice lights? Anything fancy?”

Nathan nodded as Zach laid him down on a pad on the bed. “Snoopy.”

“Snoopy! That sounds cool. Did he have a little Christmas tree like in the movie?”

Nathan nodded again as Zach made quick work of the dirty diaper. His mom handed him a clean pair of pants and Zach was soon fastening up the dozen little snaps.

“Better?” Zach asked as he picked Nathan up and held him. He was already calm, but clearly tired. Nathan nodded into Zach’s neck. “Can you take a nap? Then we can play with your new toys when you wake up?”

Nathan paused but then nodded again, too tired to put up even a mild protest. Zach kissed his cheek and then laid him down in the Pack-and-Play, handing him Gustafer.

“Babbo hug?”

“Oh, Babbo’s taking a walk.”

Nathan thought for a moment. “Bar?”

“You want to sleep with Gustafer _and_ Bar?”

Nathan nodded, and his mom signaled him that she’d collect it from downstairs.

“His boots are kind of hard, and his hat doesn’t come off. He’s not snuggly like Gustafer.”

Margo handed the bear into the crib and Nathan arranged his stuffed toys how he wanted them, an arm flung over both as if to prove Zach wrong. “Bar and Guster.”

Zach bit back a smile, tempted to pull out his phone and take a picture, but not wanting to rile Nathan when he was so close to falling asleep. “Okay, you’re right. Have a good nap. We’ll play when you wake up.”

Nathan closed his eyes and murmured, “Love daddy.”

Maybe it was the emotional roller-coaster of the last hour, but tears pricked Zach’s eyes. “Love you too, Little Man.”

He closed the door and followed his mom downstairs, the weight in his back pocket heavy on his mind. He wanted to read it _right now_ , but didn’t want to be rude to his mom. He was saved from having to find an excuse when they reached the living room and his mom turned and asked, “Are you boys okay?”

He wasn’t expecting such a straightforward inquiry. “I… yeah, Ma. I...I think so. Still things to work out, but I think I was overreacting a bit to a miscommunication. He’s getting some air and we’ll finish taking later. Tonight I guess, after Nathan goes to sleep.” His uncertainty was more clear than he’d like, and Margo gave him a sympathetic look.

“Hmmm,” she said, looking around at the surprisingly picked-up room. “Well, I might go lay down as well. No need to start dinner yet, and the peace is nice. If you’re okay, that is.”

“Of course,” he said, relieved at not having to make conversation when his mind was still so flustered and fractured and replaying all he and Chris had said and all they’d left unsaid. “I have… there’s some reading I can do.” 

Margo reached out to squeeze his arm and then moved toward the kitchen, leaving Zach with the twinkling lights of the tree. He had the bundle out of his pocket before she’d cleared the doorway, removing the rubber band. His eyes widened as he read the titles of the two small books. He fumbled to open the Moleskine and nearly choked at what he read.

“Oh, my god,” he whispered, turning several pages. “Ma!” he called out. “I’m going for a walk.”

He was already tying his boots when she popped her head back around the corner. “Will you be okay,” he asked, “holding the fort down?”

“What sort of Nonna would I be if I couldn’t handle things for a few hours.” She watched as he put on his coat and gloves and hat. With a small smile she said, “You go find him, honey.”

And with that Zach flew out the door, books clutched in his hands.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my intrepid betas Punk and Ducky! We got this one out in near record time, really, and they still looked at certain sections several times to make sure things felt right. They are so awesome.

Zach ran down to the end of the driveway, looking down the street in both directions, but Chris was nowhere in sight. Of course he wasn’t; he’d had a decent head start. Zach studied the sidewalk for a moment, looking for any indication as to the direction Chris had gone. It had been cleared of snow this morning, but flakes were falling again. And he was no tracker — a city boy through and through — but even he could see the subtle impressions of Chris’ boots in the thin dusting of snow coating the concrete. He headed in the direction of the playground, walking the short distance to the trail that cut between two lots. It was narrow and wound through a canopy of pines, and when he emerged by the field at the other end, he could see Chris sitting hunched on a swing in the distance, talking on his phone.

Idly curious about whether Chris was taking this opportunity to call his folks and wish them a Merry Christmas, or was fielding yet another business call, Zach clutched the books to his chest and lowered his head against the cold, moving forward. It didn’t take long to cover the distance. Chris was just ending the call and fiddling with the phone in his right hand when he finally noticed Zach's approach and sat up straighter in the swing, searching Zach’s face.

Zach stopped in front of him, and they both stared for a moment, Zach's mind so full he barely knew where to start, Chris clearly surprised Zach had chased him down so soon. He looked better. No longer close to crying. A little like someone in exile, though.

“Is Nathan okay?”

Zach nodded absently. “Just a dirty diaper.”

Chris nodded, scanning Zach and finally noticing the books in his hand. Zach felt a smile bloom on his face as Chris’ expression turned tentatively hopeful.

“You’ve been working on the ceremony,” Zach said, holding up the copies of _Blending — Modern Weddings that Honor Ancient Traditions_ and _Here Come the Grooms_ along with the Moleskine containing Chris notes and even draft sections of text.

“I’ve been working on the ceremony,” Chris acknowledged, nodding. “You get veto power, of course, and I know—”

“You still want to marry me.”

Chris let out a small huff of a laugh. “Zach, I never _didn’t_ want to marry you.”

“But you said—”

“I said we need to talk about the _wedding_ , not about getting married. Zach,” Chris stood and cupped his face with gloved hands. “I would marry you _tomorrow_ in your mom’s backyard if we could get it set up that quickly. I want to wear your ring. I want the world to know I’m yours, and you're mine. I want to be married _now_ so we don’t have to worry about the wedding."

Oh. _Oh!_

The joy that bubbled up and escaped as a surprised laugh made Zach nearly lightheaded. Chris’ hands on his face grounded him, though, and as Chris offered a rueful smile he raised his free hand to cover one of them and press it against his face.

“So… what? You want to elope?” And that wouldn’t be _horrible_ , but Zach was sure some of his disappointment was showing.

“No,” Chris assured, his gaze growing warmer. “I want a wedding. I want a beautiful wedding with stunning photos that we can look back on for decades. I want our families and closest friends there as witnesses. I want it to feel magical and gorgeous and joyful and momentous. But I don’t want it to become a Hollywood event.”

Zach bit his lip, wondering how that would work. “We live in Hollywood.”

“We live in L.A. We _work_ in Hollywood. And I... I don’t want it to feel like work… like a gala, with paparazzi and producers in the audience I have to be ’on’ for. I don’t want it to be a fan event where I have to point and smile and make little heart gestures with my hands. I mean, I love the fans. I do. But they get so much of me, Zach. Everywhere I go, they get pieces of me. Do I have to share one of the most solemn and joyful experience of my life as well? That place in Malibu...I’ve seen what happens in backyard Malibu weddings. People descend in _helicopters_ , Zach, just to get a few pictures. They completely ruin what should be a private, beautiful setting. I just… I don’t want them. I want to be able to focus on you. I just want people who support us, not sap us.” He sighed and lowered his eyes. “But I also feel like an asshole, because we _can_ have a big wedding. It’s legal and it feels like we should celebrate that. And if you want a big fairytale wedding, I should be able to give that to you.” Guilt closed off the open expression he’d worn during his confessions. “I want to give you what you want. And you keep showing me these places that will seat 700. And I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t want all of Hollywood there.”

Zach understood that. He really did. And this was so much better than what he’d feared. But he’d struggled with the guest list already, and it was hard to invite some colleagues and not others. It was hard to think of not sharing this with everyone. He wanted everyone to know. But then again, that didn't mean everyone had to _see_.

“I have been thinking that it would be on the big side,” he admitted. Chris nodded at the ground, letting his arms fall. Zach hated the sudden lack of contact. He grasped Chris’ hand, thinking back to how they’d compromised on the Skyping. “Maybe,” he started, trying to shift from the vision of the wedding he’d had for the last few months to the one Chris had just laid out. His version sounded nice, actually. And more importantly, a big wedding didn’t matter to Zach as much as a small one seemed to matter to Chris. “Maybe we could keep the ceremony small, and then have a sort of reception later — like weeks later — that could be more for colleagues and people I work with in the LGBT community and things like that.”

Chris blew out a held breath, looking up as a smile pulled tentatively at his mouth. “You'd be okay with that?”

Zach thought for a moment, making sure he was answering honestly and wouldn't resent this decision later. “Yeah. I think it would be nice, actually. More intimate. More for us instead of about us for other people.” He shrugged. “All I really need there is you and Nathan. And this will be a lot easier to set up. I'd still want a reception after the wedding—”

“So would I,” Chris assured, “with some decadent cake I can Pine myself with. And music so you can make fun of my dancing.”

Now Zach was grinning hard, and Chris’ smile was radiant and gorgeous and fucking perfect. “I’ll start looking for places as soon as I get back. I’ll show you the guest list I have so far, and you can decide where to cut it off, but i’m thinking we can get away with a venue for 50 now. I mean, we both have pretty small families, and if we’re only inviting our closest friends...”

“That sounds perfect, oh my god, Zach!” He surged forward giving Zach another knee-weakening kiss. And this was... god this was _wonderful_. Zach had prepared himself for heartbreak and a hard recovery or, worse, no recovery at all and this was _bliss._ Chris’ kiss was filled with relief and joy and a hunger that felt different from the frantic kisses of the night before, when so much still felt on edge and unsaid between them.

Chris loved him. Wanted him. Now and always.

“We’re fine,” Zach gasped between kisses, giddy with the revelation.

But the kisses slowed and Chris pulled back, panting harshly with closed eyes. They breathed each other’s air, but it had changed again. Zach could sense the tension in Chris’ posture as he pulled back further.

“Aren’t we?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Chris opened his eyes and licked his lips. He gave a slight shake of his head, and Zach’s stomach dropped for what felt like the tenth time in the last few hours. But then Chris was kissing him again. “We are,” he reassured. “Mostly. But I think… fuck, I’m really cold. Can we walk while we do this?”

Zach blinked at the sudden change of topic.

“Okay,” he agreed, casting around for a destination. Chris stomped his feet and rubbed his gloved hands together, and Zach was reminded that Chris was, after all, from California, and had never been used to this cold.

“There’s the nature area down the road…”

“Great, lead the way.” Chris offered his hand, and Zach accepted it with relief, pulling him closer and then in the direction of the small woods across the street. Chris huffed a laugh and said, “I think I feel even colder because we stopped kissing.”

Zach cast him as sideways look. “There’s a way to fix that,” he suggested, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

Chris laughed. “I’m sure I’ll take you up on that, but—”

He chewed on his lip for a moment, watching the ground as they walked hand in hand. Zach wasn’t sure what to make of it. Chris had already convinced him that he hadn’t cheated and said he still wanted to get married, so Zach couldn’t imagine that whatever problem Chris was still considering could be that scary, but the longer this pause went on the more nervous he got. He squeezed Chris’ hand to encourage him to continue.

“There’s something I want to ask you… ask _of_ you. And I don’t know how. It’s not fair. I just can’t really think of an alternative.”

“Fair… I’m not sure what fair has to do with things. Was it fair when you hopped a plane on three hours notice to be with me when I met Nathan? Was it fair when Nathan and I invaded your home? If you need something, you can ask.”

Chris nodded, taking a deep breath. “It just seems like neither of us has been happy the last few months, and we should make some changes before it really does screw things up between us. And it’s totally my fault, and I know that. I’ve accepted too many projects and I’m gone too much. But my hands are tied; I’ve signed the contracts. I can fix it as we go forward — I’ve already told Karen I don’t want any new scripts for a while.” Zach had overheard something like that when Chris was talking to Melissa, but he hadn’t been sure if Chris was just tired or if this was because of him. Guilt twisted in his stomach. “But for the next year or so, I have limited options. I have press for _Hours_ , and filming for _Trek_ and _Wonder Woman_ and _Hell or Highwater_ , and then press for all of that as well. And after this I can try to limit myself to two projects a year, and try to make sure that one is reasonably local, but until then, I’m going to be on location a lot.”

Zach squeezed his hand. Shit, that sounded like a lot. Even without the pressures of planning a wedding or co-parenting, it was a hell of a lot to shoulder in one year. But Hollywood was unforgiving, and when you were hot, like Chris was at the moment, it was really impossible to say no. “Chris, I’m not asking you to cut back. I know this is an important time in your career.”

“I know. And it is. And there’s still that voice in the back of my mind that says someday the acting police are going to take my card away, and I’d better work as hard as I can while they let me. But it’s an important time in our lives, too, Zach. And in Nathan’s. I hate that I have to ask you what his favorite game is. I should just know that. I’m his dad, too. And it’s also an important time in your career. It’s one thing to take some time with limited projects so you can be with Nathan, but it’s a different thing when I’m the one asking. I need to help you carve out time. I know you love producing, but you’re an actor. A really good actor. You need room to continue to grow in your craft. I’m your partner; I should be helping you make time for that rather than sucking all the time for my own career. I just… I let it get away from me. And I don’t want to be like that. My dad was always able to find a life balance. He always fed his career and the other things that were frankly way more important: his marriage and his kids. I’m not doing a good job of following his example.”

Zach had resigned himself to a faltering career when he decided to keep Nathan, but hearing Chris talk about it made him feel raw. He took a deep breath and led them across the street and onto the path that lead through the dormant, leafless trees. It was barren, but beautiful. Snow lined tops of the branches, contrasting with the grey and charcoal bark of maples and elms. Everything looked clean and oddly structural — like modern art or architecture embodied in sleeping, reaching branches against the grey-purple sky — and Zach realized he still didn’t know what Chris wanted. “What are you asking, exactly?”

Chris sighed. “For help getting us through this mess I made.”

Zach opened his mouth to insist that Chris hadn’t made a mess, but Chris pulled his phone out and opened to a picture of a small house. He held it up for Zach to see.

“What’s this?”

“A cottage in Cornwall, near our filming location.”

“Don’t they provide you with a room or something?”

“Yeah, but it’s not big enough for the three of us.”

Zach’s steps faltered. “The three of us?”

Chris nodded. “I was hoping...I don’t like being separated so much, but I don’t have much flexibility at the moment. I was hoping you could take a break from the Before the Door projects, or maybe do some of it remotely, and come out with me. The cast is great, and they’ve already put up with Gal’s family; I’m sure they’ll be supportive as long as I stay focused when working. And I think that’d be easier if I weren’t missing you guys so much and worried that my absence was messing things up. I’m not saying the whole time; I know you have work to do here. But maybe two weeks here and there to help break up the time we’re apart? If you can get away that long.”

Zach turned and kissed Chris. Because he could _definitely_ make that work. “You want us with you?” he asked between kisses.

Chris pulled him closer, pressing them together through bulky layers of clothing. “Always, Zach. The fact that you have to ask shows just how much I’ve been screwing up. But yes, I want you with me. And I want to be home with you. And I want you to head off on location and leave me with Nathan. And I want to visit you on location during your next project. I just don’t know how to make all of that work. But I have to believe it _can_.”

“Oh, it can. If I’m only gone two weeks at a time, I can schedule meetings around that. And as long as this cottage of yours has solid internet, I can do any other work remotely. We can definitely make this work. We just need to rush a passport for Nathan.”

Chris grinned into the kiss. “It does. Have internet I mean. It looks really great. Gal turned me onto the company that rents these things, and they had already worked with her and knew her requirements, so it was easy to find something appropriate.”

Zach was relieved that hearing Chris say Gal’s name no longer caused him pain. If anything, Gal’s insistence of having her family around during the holidays seemed to be working for him, charting potential solutions for his and Chris’ similar issues. “Is it the cottage she and her family stayed in?”

“No, they’ve got that one booked again. Actually, I think she just kept it so he could drop in. But it’s not too far. Other side of town. Do you want to see the details?”

Zach shook his head. “If you picked it and it has internet, I don’t really need to know more.”

Chris’ grin was incandescent. “I’m going to call Mel and book it, okay? I’m afraid it will get taken.”

“She’s working on Christmas?”

“Yeah, her family’s part Muslim. She’s alone in the office and bored actually. She’s found one in Italy for me too, for when we’re on location there in a few months. She keeps researching things without me asking, running interference with Karen. She’s been worried about me.”

Zach felt warmth bloom for the woman he’d only met a few times. “Tell her we’ll take the one in Italy, too.”

Chris’ face brightened. “Really?”

“Yeah, we’ll make it work. You’re right; I don’t want things to get like they did this autumn either. It was not fun. And it’s Italy. I’ll get in touch with my roots or something.”

They wandered down the path hand in hand as Chris made the call. Zach could feel the tension bleed out of both of them as Chris’ assistant confirmed that they had both cottages reserved and that she would look at his schedule into the future and try to locate similar accommodations.

The path was turning them back toward the road; taking them home. And that felt right. Nathan would be waking up soon, and he wanted to be with their son on Christmas. But he couldn’t deny that they had needed this time as a couple, and probably needed more. The woods were peaceful, and he knew he’d always look at them now with this memory firmly entrenched; he and Chris making each other the priority again. He’d never given this little forest much thought before, but now it felt important. An element of home that was grounding, even if he was really more of an urban landscape guy.

Chris ended the call and turned to take Zach in his arms and place an achingly sweet kiss against his lips. “This is really okay?”

“Of course. Easy to work around, and much better for us. I just wish you’d asked sooner. Maybe I wouldn't have let my imagination run away with itself.”

“Sorry. It took me a while to reach the point where I couldn’t stand it anymore, and thinking of my schedule for the next nine months… It just didn't seem workable. I really will cut back after this. We’re not going to just make my career a priority. We’ll figure out a balance.”

Zach kissed him and then took his hand and got them walking again. He bit his lip, hesitating for a moment before deciding to share some news he had planned to just ignore. But now it seemed like new opportunities shouldn't be hidden.

“My agent actually called last week.”

“Yeah?” Chris asked hopefully.

“They still want me for _Snowden_. You know the whole thing fell apart when the studio dropped it. But they’ve lined up like five production companies now, and it's moving forward again... and they want me. And Oliver Stone is still directing. I was going to call and tell them I wasn't taking projects right now, but—”

“But it's Oliver frickin’ Stone! You have to take it, Zach! This is fantastic!”

Zach bit his lip, Chris’ excitement feeding his own, which he’d worked so hard to keep tamped down. “They said filming wouldn't start until I was done with _Trek_. They looked at my schedule enough to know I had that. And it's a big cast, so they'd only need me for a few weeks. Possibly not in a row.”

“After _Trek_ I just have _Hell or Highwater_ , which will be in the states. And it's short. A few weeks shooting. No stunts or special effects. If I have to I can bring Nikki and Nathan with me on location. Or, hell, my mom might be willing to take him for a week in the middle. Whatever. We’ll make it work. You call them and tell them yes. One way or another, we’ll make it work.”

Zach felt like he was glowing. He hadn't consciously realized that he was resenting having to turn it down, but now that he didn't have to, it felt like Christmas. Which it _was_. Zach grinned and leaned in to kiss Chris.

Chris started walking again, gripping Zach’s hand tightly. He was wearing a relaxed, genuinely happy smile that Zach hadn't seen in a long time. Too long. And that felt like Christmas, too. Zach smiled down at his feet and noticed the long forgotten books still in his hands.

“Tell me more about these,” he suggested, lifting them slightly.

“Oh, well you know how I get with words.” He glanced almost shyly over and Zach, who felt a jolt of awareness spike through him. He squeezed Chris’ hand. “I figured it was a way I could help, even though I wasn’t looking for venues or thinking about florists. I’m not particularly religious, and I know you don't want anything to do with the church, but I thought there might be elements of those traditions we could incorporate… And same thing with some of the Jewish wedding traditions that my cousins and sister used… Mostly I want it to just reflect us, but I thought it would be nice. And so much of the traditional language in these things is stilted and overly prescriptive and _super_ heteronormative. I knew it would all need reworking. So I bought a few books and started researching. We don’t have to use any of what I pulled together, but at least it can give us a start, and we can it rework together.” He shrugged, smiling a little. “It was something I could read and take notes on between shoots or in the evening. It made me feel closer to you. It might have actually _made_ us closer if I’d actually told you about it instead of just using it as a security blanket.”

“We’re through that now,” Zach said, not wanting Chris to berate himself further. “I admit, I didn’t read carefully… more caught the gist of it and ran out the door to chase you down. But what I was able to catch I really liked. It’s good, Chris. Thank you.”

His smile was less rueful now and happier. “We’ll make it better together. Your obsession with words is just as bad as mine.”

Zach laughed and pulled him closer, so they were walking arm in arm.

They wandered out of the woods and back along the sidewalk, passing cheerful houses bedecked with bright lights and evergreen boughs. Occasionally music or laughter or muffled shouting reached their ears, but they seemed engulfed in a peaceful, content, cocoon, untouched by the holiday joys or stresses of others. They approached his mom’s house from the opposite direction they had left it, having made a large circle in their journey. Zach wasn’t even sure how long they’d been gone, but with all that had been said and the change in both their moods and attitudes, it felt like ages. And they were in a much better place now than they had been this morning, despite the joy that Christmas morning had brought. Christmas afternoon was going to be even better.

“Daddy! Babbo!” greeted them as they opened the door.

“Hey, Little Man!” Chris said, untangling himself from Zach and leaning down to give Nathan a hug.

The child shrieked and pulled away. “Babbo cold!”

“There might be a little snow on my coat,” Chris acknowledged, taking it off along with his gloves and hat. Zach took them to hang with his while Chris kneeled down. “Try again,” he said, opening his arms. Nathan grinned and flung himself into Chris’ embrace. “Better?”

Nathan nodded but then put a hand on Chris’ cheek. “Babbo still cold.”

“Well, I was outside a long time, but I’m feeling warmer by the minute.” He gave Zach a little grin, and Zach couldn’t help the smile that lit his face.

“Daddy cold?” Nathan asked, turning to him.

“Let’s see,” Zach said, slipping his fingers down Nathan’s neck. He squealed and twisted away, making sure he kept some distance this time, but laughing at the game. “Nothing some hot chocolate won’t fix.”

“Hot chocolate I can do. And maybe with something a bit stronger to help with the cold,” his mom said from the doorway with a wink, eyes sparkling as she took in the change in both of them.

Zach bit back a grin and gave her a little nod, whether to acknowledge things were better or accept the spiked hot cocoa, even he wasn’t sure. He was sure his happiness was apparent on his face, though, just as it was in the crinkled corners of Chris’ eyes when he looked back at Zach.

Heart eyes. Their friends accused them of having heart eyes for each other, even when they shouldn’t — on press tours and interviews and times when they should be acting professionally. It even used to happen before they were together, much to numerous boyfriends’ chagrin. But now he didn’t do anything to try to fight it, crinkling his nose as he smiled harder at Chris’ grin.

They were saps. He could live with that.

“Babbo play?” Nathan asked, as they both leaned down to remove their shoes.

“You bet! We’re both yours for the rest of the day. What new toy do you want to play with first?”

The afternoon passed in a lazy, joyful tangle of toys and boys on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. Zach loved how Chris always invested himself fully in whatever he was doing with Nathan. He was currently guarding a sofa fort/rebel alliance stronghold while Jedi knights Nathan, Bar and Gustafer, protected a herd of dinosaurs from… Zach didn’t know. But they were _all in_ , and Zach had been sent for provisions (aka Christmas cookies). They’d managed to get all the toys out of their packaging and pressed into service, the boxes relegated to the garage. So now the entire living room was part of the game. Chris occasionally grabbed his camera and tried to grab a few shots when Nathan wasn’t looking. By the time Nathan was ready for his afternoon nap, Chris had convinced him that they would all travel in a spaceship (the side chair) to a new planet later, and he begrudgingly allowed them to dismantle the fort in his absence.

In the relative quiet of nap time, Zach found himself reading the books Chris had used for the ceremony while Chris downloaded pictures to his laptop and sorted them. And the best part was the notes in the margins of the books, sometimes with circled numbers next to them that corresponded to things he’d drafted in his Moleskine. Unsurprisingly, the elements Chris considered including in their ceremony were thoughtful and reflective of their relationship to each other and their families. And the words he’d drafted so far were beautiful. Zach added some notes in the Moleskine to remind himself to find some quotes and poems that he liked that might fit into the themes Chris had laid out. Chris had basically created an outline of the ceremony with traditions incorporated and a bit of text, but there were still plenty of areas where Zach could contribute. Zach wasn’t sure if he’d done that on purpose or not, but it felt nice that there was still room for Zach’s thoughts and preferences.

“Is it okay? We can change anything you like.” Chris handed him some of his mom’s homemade eggnog, heavy on the brandy, and curled up on the sofa next to him.

“I love it all. I’m just adding more stuff I love,” he said with a smile, and then leaned in to kiss Chris because he could, and the tension of the last few days was gone and anything they had to discuss now felt like collaboration rather than confrontation. Zach felt like he could breathe easy for the first time in months, and judging from Chris’ smile, he felt the same.

“I do wish I had some of my books with me, though. I don’t have all my favorite poems memorized like you do.”

Chris’ eyes crinkled as he took a sip. “We have time,” he said. “And I bet we can find most of it on the internet anyway, if you’re keen on finding it now.”

Zach set the books on the table next to the sofa and wrapped his arm around Chris, threading fingers through his hair and kissing the top of his head as Chris snuggled into his side.

“Hi, baby,” he murmured against Chris’ hair, huffing a laugh when he felt Chris smile against his chest. “Tired?”

“Hmmm. No actually. I feel great. I actually just tried to help your mom in the kitchen and she kicked me out. I was just wondering if I’d pissed her off and been demoted to ‘cousin’ or ‘guest’ status.”

Zach snorted. “Unlikely. Christmas is always a production. She probably just doesn’t want you stealing her recipes.”

“There’s just nothing much to do yet,” his mom corrected, sitting down in the chair next to the tree, glass of wine in her hand. She smiled at both of them and waved her hand for him to stay where he was when Chris started to get up. “The soup is cooking except for the tortellini, which go in later so they don’t get soggy, the parts of the sauces that I can do now are already on the stove, simmering, and everything else has to wait until an hour before the meal. And I’m perfectly happy to share my recipes with you, dear,” she added with a smile to Chris. She took another sip, leaning back and putting her feet up on a small foot rest. “I also thought you boys could do with a bit more time on your own. In fact, I was wondering if you wouldn’t like me to take Nathan all day tomorrow so you can have it to yourselves. Get out of the house and explore together.”

“It’s Pittsburgh, Ma; what’s to explore?” But Chris had gone still. Zach leaned in a bit to try to see his face. “Unless… unless there's something you’d like to see,” he added. He couldn't imagine what it’d be. His hometown was hardly a tourist destination.

Chris sat up so they could look at each other. “Well, you’ve never shown me where you went to college, and I know those were important years. And the Cathedral of Learning you told me about looks like it would be fun to photograph. I mean, I don't really want to lose time with Nathan, but it would be nice to just relax with you for a day. And if Margo has ideas of things to do with Nathan…” He looked over hopefully.

“Well, I'd already planned to take him to the St. Stephen's Day celebration at the church, assuming that’s still okay?” Zach nodded. “I could also take him to the mall and exchange those clothes that were too small. And there's an ice cream shop with specialty holiday sundaes that I imagine he might enjoy.”

Zach snorted. “I think that's a good bet. And I’m sure Chris and I wouldn’t mind skipping the mall.” Chris was nodding beside him.

“I can keep him busy. It would be nice for me to have a Nonna day. As long as you boys were home by bedtime so you could tuck him in, I think we’d be fine.”

Zach reached over and threaded his fingers through Chris’, raising an eyebrow.

“Sounds perfect,” Chris answered.

The next few hours passed lazily. Nathan eventually woke, and they continued their games. And then Chris disappeared into the kitchen with Margo and one of his Moleskines, no doubt to take notes on the Christmas recipes. Zach peeked in at one point to get a snack for Nathan and found Chris cubing melon that smelled remarkably good for December and wrapping it in thin slices of prosciutto. Chris put some melon on a plate and handed to him.

“Don’t let Nathan eat too much. We’re almost ready.”

They were called to the table about twenty minutes later. It was a riot of red, green, gold and cream, both the decorations and the food. The poinsettia tablecloth set a visually frenetic backdrop for the chaos of aromas and textures — bowls of olives and cheese-stuffed pepperoncini, golden tortellini soup with Italian sausage, prosciutto and melon, _two_ types of pasta (which Chris was adding more parmesan to as Zach got Nathan settled into his highchair) with spinach and sun-dried tomatoes, and a loaf of garlic bread that smelled absolutely divine. There was nothing on the table that didn’t seem to follow the color scheme, and it was _too much_ —too busy, too crazy, borderline tacky with the patterned napkins and “Buon Natale” decorations they had used since he and Joe were kids — and it was perfect. Zach remembered wishing when he was in college that his mom would host dinners that were elegant. More refined. Table settings that didn’t flirt with the concept of _kitsch_. But at this moment, watching Chris pour the red wine and his mom put sparkling apple juice in a cup for Nathan, it looked exactly right.

“Is everything on the table? Do I need to get anything else before I sit down?” Margot asked distractedly, scanning the table.

“I think we’re good,” Chris said, checking the counter.

“Sit down, Ma. Everything looks great, and if anything is missing, I’ll get up for it.” Zach took his seat. “Hey, did Joe call today?”

“While you boys were on your walk,” she answered, distractedly, collecting the salt and pepper from the hutch. “Nicole’s parents loved him, of course. Why wouldn’t they?” She looked smug as she surveyed the table one last time, sitting as she decided that everything really was set. Chris followed her lead and took his seat next to Zach. They all put their napkins in their laps, and Margo raised her glass, pausing as they sat up a little straighter. “To family,” she said, nodding to Zach.

Zach raised his glass. “To the family getting bigger, officially,” he said with a small smile, looking at Chris meaningfully.

“Oh, I see how this works,” Chris said into the pause that followed. “My turn is it?” Zach nodded. Chris raised his glass a little higher. “To all of that, and to being in the same place at the same time, with nothing else demanding our attention.” He leaned over to Nathan. “Your turn, buddy.”

Nathan looked startled. “What do?”

“Hold your cup up like this, and say ‘To—’ and then say something you really, really like.”

Nathan held up his sippy cup and furrowed his brow in thought. “To Santa.”

Everyone grinned. “Good choice,” Chris stage whispered.

Margot laughed. “I can’t top that. _Cin cin_!”

“ _Cin cin_!” they said in unison, taking a sip of their drinks.

“Now eat before it gets cold,” she finished.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Chris said, reaching for the rotini.

The meal was delicious. And hysterical. Chris was trying everything — which was expected — at least three times, which was surprising. When he went for the penne with beef in Barolo sauce the third time, Margo looked across the table at Zach and raised an eyebrow with a little smile. As if this were all going according to some conspiratorial plan of theirs to fatten him up. Nathan was more discerning. He ate all his pasta, smearing the sauce from ear to ear, as well as the garlic bread, melon, and tomatoes out of the salad. But he refused the soup, antipasto, and let them know in no uncertain terms that olives were “yucky.” He also wasn’t much of a fan of homemade tiramisu, but Zach and Chris’ enthusiasm helped soothe whatever sting that may have caused Margo. Fortunately, Nathan was a fan of shortbread and the little amaretti cookies his mom always kept at Christmas. As was Chris, it turned out.

“Have you had these before?”

Zach rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, these are imported. Do you know where we can get them? Because they’re awesome.”

“Any World Market, I imagine. They’re not hard to get, Chris; they’re just not at Von’s.”

“Well, we need to invest,” he said, taking a cup of coffee from Margo and dipping the cookie into it.

“Heathen.” Zach teased. “The whole point of these cookies is that they’re crunchy.”

Chris just kept chewing, eyes crinkling.

Margo called Nathan-bath-duty, and Chris took responsibility for the dishes again, with Zach putting away leftovers and gathering plates and drying. By the time they were done, Nathan was in jammies and wanting a book, and they sat next to the tree and took turns reading to him until he was a warm, boneless mass who couldn’t keep his eyes open. And then the day was over. Nathan had been tucked in and his mom had kissed them both goodnight and retired, and he and Chris were curled up on the sofa watching the fire slowly die while listening to Dean Martin sing that he had his love to keep him warm. Zach was amazed to find himself with Christmas essentially behind him, except for a few quiet hours. He’d planned for the day so long — arranging flights and buying gifts and generally fretting. And on the one hand, it felt like it had flown by. At the same time, so much had happened — so much had been _resolved_ — that it felt like a week had passed since that morning. And it was so much better. Louis Armstrong was singing “I can’t Give you Anything but Love,” and Zach was more and more aware of Chris’ content presence and the peace between them. The fire crackled and then dimmed, and Chris shifted closer, maybe just seeking warmth.

“Good Christmas?” Chris asked in a voice that was soft and intimate, as if he hesitated to disturb that peace.

“The best,” he answered, wrapping his arm around Chris. “I got you back.”

“I was never gone.” And though Chris had been physically absent, Zach knew what he meant.

“I know,” he assured, kissing Chris on the temple. “I know. I just got myself worked up with lack of information and some worst-case assumptions. So that’s how it feels. And it’s good, Chris. Really good. Even better for the fact that you never _were_ gone.”

Chris hummed, and Zach could feel it in his lips, which were still nuzzled against Chris’ temple. He really didn’t want any space between them.

“It is true in a way, I suppose,” Chris whispered. “We drifted apart, each caught up in our own lives, and now we’re back to how we are when we’re physically together and all the lines of communication are open—”

“And all we want is to be in each other’s pockets,” Zach added, making Chris snort a laugh. _And pants,_ he added to himself, and Chris hummed as if he’d heard.

“It does feel good,” Chris whispered, reaching and arm around Zach and pulling him closer. Zach’s heart soared. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.” And with a gentle nudge of his nose along the side of Chris’ face, they were kissing. Slowly, but not chastely, with a deep passion that lingered just this side of intent. Zach felt like he was awakening after a long and restless sleep filled with unpleasant dreams to find he was safe and wanted. And his body was awakening as well. They kissed as fire continued to dim, they kissed as the music ended, until a crack from the fireplace startled them out of it.

The last log crumbled in the fireplace, flame snuffing out and leaving only red embers. Chris laid his head on Zach’s shoulder, watching them glow and catching his breath.

“Tired?” Zach asked, running his fingers through Chris’ hair.

“Not particularly,” Chris answered softly.

Zach massaged Chris’ scalp gently, earning a soft hum. As his fingers dipped to the soft skin behind Chris’ ear, he was rewarded with a soft gasp that went straight to his cock.

“Want to go to bed, anyway?”

Chris grinned against his neck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Bleary!verse I've obviously taken some liberties with the schedules of projects Zach might be involved with. So Snowden is behind its real schedule (though it really does seem to have five producers...I just created a snag to delay where they really ended up). 
> 
> Also, in case you don't follow me on tumblr and missed it, I made a moodboard with some pictures for this chapter. You can find it here:http://ato-the-bean.tumblr.com/post/149905083135/ato-the-bean-ato-the-bean-since-i-cant-really. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is long...way longer than my usual for this fic. I considered splitting it, but decided in the end that with the week we've all had, we need every bit of joy we can get. Hope this helps. And many thanks to my lovely betas, Ducky and Punk... they are most awesome!
> 
> As we left off at the end of Chapter 6 (many, MANY weeks ago) Zach had just suggested they go to bed, despite not being tired...

An energy crackled between them as they stood side by side brushing their teeth in Zach’s childhood bathroom. An energy Zach hadn’t felt in a long time. Not just attraction. That had been around for the better part of a decade. Not just domesticity. That was a near constant the last two years. No, this was more akin to the butterflies Zach had felt when they’d first become a couple. When he realized he no longer had to hide his attraction for Chris. No longer had to doubt Chris’ attraction for him. The knowledge that Chris’ hands would soon be exploring his bare skin, and his would be roaming Chris’, and there was _no way_ it wasn’t going to happen.

It had been months since he’d felt that certainty, but he did now. And judging from the gaze he met in the mirror, Chris felt the same. Heat and intent shimmered in cerulean eyes, and Zach’s stomach flipped in anticipation. Impatiently, he finished brushing. Then he waited, barely able to keep his hands to himself as Chris removed his contacts and washed his face, bending over the sink so Zach had to bite his lip to stop a groan or demand that Chris _hurry_.

Chris gave him a knowing smile in the mirror that nearly earned him a slap on the ass, but before frustration could build, Chris threaded their fingers together and pulled him across the hall and into their bedroom. No sooner had Zach pressed the button and heard the click of the lock than Chris had him pressed against the door, all hard lines and urgent kisses and _fuck_ it was perfect. Zach was gasping for air and shifting his hips until _yes right there_ , and Chris whined into Zach’s mouth, ceding just a tiny bit of control before his fingers fumbled for the hem of Zach’s shirt. Kisses paused for the removal of one shirt, then another, and finally there was just cool air and heated skin and so much desire Zach whimpered as Chris pressed him into the door again. _Fuck_ he loved it when Chris got all insistent and forceful, manhandling him. It was one of the biggest surprises when their relationship first became physical. Not that Chris would sometimes manhandle him — that wasn’t particularly surprising — but how much Zach _liked_ it. The fact that he was never sure which of them might take the lead, which of them might surrender. If the surrender would be easy, or hard fought.

Zach tried to push back, kissing harder to make Chris retreat, but instead of backing off, Chris’ mouth slipped down to Zach’s jaw, below his ear, down his throat, until Zach let his head fall back against the door with a soft _thunk_. And then he was grateful Chris was holding him against the door, as those lips traveled lower and fingers pulled at his fly and Zach felt his knees nearly give way as Chris’ hit the floor.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Zach whispered. And as much as he’d been feeling like he did when they first got together — when every touch was new and awkwardly thrilling and every shy glance made his heart race — _this_ didn’t feel like that at all. This was not a Chris who was fumbling after a long hiatus from men… a Chris who was just learning what Zach liked, how to make him weak and desperate. _This_ Chris knew all that, and was putting it to such profoundly effective use at this very moment that Zach had to thread his fingers through Chris’ hair and force his head back, gasping as he watched his cock slip from Chris’ lips and those achingly blue eyes turn up to him in silent question.

He panted a few breaths before whispering, “I’m not going to last if you keep that up. And I want to spend all night with you.”

Chris grinned and kissed Zach’s hip…and then his stomach, his chest, rising until he was could kiss Zach’s mouth and along his jaw to his ear, warm chest pressed against Zach’s.

“I want you to spend all night with me, too. I’ve been thinking about it for _weeks_.” Chris nipped at his neck right over his pulse, and Zach’s head fell back against the door again, because fuck. “Seems the best way to make that happen is to ensure you’re nice and relaxed when you start to take me apart.”

_Jesus fucking Christ._

Zach knew he should protest — something about fairness and being a generous lover — but for the life of him, he could not form the words. And then Chris’ mouth moved against his skin again — his jaw, his neck, that place behind his ear — and whatever tenuous hold Zach still had on language or thought was utterly shattered.

“Come on, baby. Let me,” Chris murmured, tugging at Zach’s jeans and briefs, rotating him toward the edge of the bed, pushing him to sit — which was a very good idea considering where this was heading and the fact that Zach couldn’t feel his knees. “Then you can take as long as you want with me. Until you’re ready again.”

Falling back on his hands, Zach didn’t even try to do more than nod as Chris knelt to remove Zach’s clothing and toss it aside. He dragged fingertips up the inside of Zach's calves, applying gentle pressure when he reached his knees, encouraging Zach to spread them and let Chris kneel closer.

Really, who was he to argue when Chris seemed to have his heart _so set_ on making him come before his own pants were even off? Sensing his victory, Chris slowly pushed Zach’s knees apart and licked a stripe up his cock. Zach groaned and collapsed back onto his elbows, resisting the pull of gravity just enough to be able to continue watching Chris as he met Zach’s eyes and took his cock in his mouth.

And _fuck_ it was glorious. Chris had calmed down since pushing Zach against the door, and was… not exactly taking his time, but being exquisitely _thorough_. And _god_ it had been a long time since Zach felt this much focused attention paid to his pleasure. Chris was good at this — always had been — but fuck he was really pulling out all the stops. Fingers explored his balls, traced the curve of his ass, lifted his leg to drape over Chris’ shoulder. When they finally dragged across the tight pucker of his opening, he groaned with want and let his head fall back.

It was building again, that heat and delicious twist in his belly and the relentless rhythm of Chris’ mouth. And then Chris’ finger disappeared only to return a second later, slick and insistent and _oh_ _god yes!_ pressing in, searching.

Zach’s hand moved — quite without his permission — to Chris’ head, his fingers threading through soft hair and bangs overlong for the sake of a character, pushing them up so he could see Chris’ face. It was gorgeous: focused and intent and eager and _god_ Zach loved him. And then Chris’ finger found its goal and Zach bucked involuntarily and Chris hummed around his cock and Zach came and came and came, lost to electric pleasure and white heat and a wave of emotion that shook through his core.

In the quiet that followed, Zach opened his eyes to realize that he'd fallen all the way back onto the bed and was now staring at the ceiling. He felt Chris’ head resting against his thigh, warm and solid.

And tense, the need almost pouring off him.

“C’mere,” Zach whispered.

“Hmmm?”

Zach sat up — awkwardly and with a bit of effort — and pulled Chris up until he was standing. “Come here,” he murmured, mind still hazy but refocusing on Chris surprisingly quickly as he wrapped his hands around Chris’ waist. It was narrower than the last time he’d done this; his fingers nearly met in the back as his thumbs stroked up the contours of Chris’ abs, more pronounced for the weight he’d lost during the shoot. Silently vowing to focus on Chris’ care the rest of their vacation, he leaned forward to brush his mouth against the warm skin, smiling against it as Chris’ breath hitched. He was still a little breathless, too, but continued to explore with his mouth and his hands until he felt Chris’ fingers trace his arms to his shoulders, and then thread into his hair.

“You can take more time to recover, if you need it. We have all night.”

“Hmmm,” Zach hummed against his skin. “I’m okay. Surprisingly clear-headed after that spectacular blowjob. I need to feel you.”

Chris swayed as Zach ran his hands up over his chest, teasing his nipples, pleased with Chris’ small gasp. They did have all night, and Zach was going to relearn Chris’ body inch by inch. Every shiver, every whimper, every new contour and hard plane. An involuntary thrust of Chris’ hips drew Zach’s hands lower, until one arm was wrapped around his waist. He trailed his free hand over Chris’ stomach and lower, until he was cupping the bulge in Chris’ jeans, pulling a moan from him as Zach unbuttoned the fly.

The jeans and briefs came off slowly, Zach tasting the newly exposed skin at Chris’ hips, inhaling Chris’ musk, tracing teasing fingers along Chris’ thighs until he felt Chris’ hands tighten on his shoulders, working harder at keeping him balanced. As the clothes were finally pushed to the floor so Chris could step out of them impatiently, Zach wrapped both arms around his waist, pulling him close until Chris’ hard cock was trapped against his chest. They just breathed together for a moment, and then Zach let go and whispered, “Lie down on the bed, baby. No. On your stomach.” He reached into the bedside drawer, pulling out supplies, including massage oil, as Chris got settled.

The massage started at Chris’ shoulders and moved down. His arms, his back, the hints of ribs that usually didn’t show — Zach explored them all. Chris was shifting under him, sometimes humming appreciatively, sometimes adjusting himself, sometimes with the barest expression of discomfort. His muscles were finally pliant, so Zach wasn’t exactly sure what was causing it.

“You okay?” he asked as his fingers dipped around the sides of Chris’ chest again, staying clear of the areas he’d long since learned were ticklish.

Chris turned his head so Zach could see it in profile. “Hmmm. Feels great. I’m just a little self conscious. I know I let myself lose too much weight.”

“Oh, baby,” Zach said softly, leaning over Chris so they were chest to back, lacing their fingers together as he whispered. “You are stunning, as always. I was just worried that it meant you were under too much stress. We need to fix that for you. But never think I don’t want you.” The heavy weight of his newly interested cock pressing against Chris’ ass was helping his assurances, he hoped. There was no hiding his attraction.

“Really?” Chris asked.

“Hmmm.” Zach sat up and scooted further down until he was straddling Chris’ legs and could drag his hands down. “Besides, do you really think that losing a few pounds could do anything to the glory that is this ass?” Zach palmed each cheek roughly, kneading as Chris huffed a laugh. “The contrast of your narrow waist just shows it off.”

“Shut up,” Chris laughed, pink tinging his cheeks. The relaxed curve of his shoulders showed he was pleased.

“If you like,” Zach answered. Then he pressed his palms into Chris’ ass again, and pulled them apart to expose Chris’ opening. Chris’ laugh turned to a whimper.

“Shhh. I’m going to take care of you, baby.” He shifted lower, settling between Chris’ legs and sensing the lust and anticipation that held Chris body tense and eager. At the first flick of his tongue over the opening, Chris buried his face in the pillow to muffle his moan.

Chris liked to be teased. Liked to have his arousal ramped up slowly, building until he was desperate and needy and came so hard he saw stars. Zach never had the patience to be on the receiving end of that sort of attention. Once he decided he wanted Chris in him, he wanted Chris _in_ him. No, Zach didn’t like being teased. But he _loved_ being on the other side. Opening Chris slowly, like he was now, hearing the little sounds he made as his mind turned inward, focused on his body and his need. The trust Chris handed him to take him apart slowly and thoroughly.

It was so beautiful, Zach thought as he knelt between Chris’ legs, opening the bottle of lube. Chris never rushed him, never showed any sign of impatience but the occasional whine. Zach could just prepare him and watch as his flush slowly shifted from his face to his ears, shoulders, chest. He slid a finger in, watching the muscles in Chris’ back tense at the intrusion, and then slowly melt as Chris groaned. It was only a moment before Chris shifted to press back into Zach’s hand, inviting more. There was something almost sacred in the way they fit together. The way they could read each other, every shift of muscle and sigh and flush, as if it were plain as text but in a language only they knew. Zach shivered as he saw Chris was ready for more, and slid a third slicked up finger in that fantastic heat. Jesus it felt like it had been forever since they’d been like this — open and free and giving without distractions or walls. And yet it felt as familiar and natural as coming home. To their bodies, no time had passed at all. They knew exactly what to do, no hesitation or doubt. The sign of a long intimacy.

“Turn over,” he said when he finally _had_ to see Chris’ face. Zach could read Chris’ body, demonstrative as Chris was. Could see the pleasure building in the way he rocked and tensed, the way his hands grasped at the pillow and sheets and finally reached blindly for Zach’s leg. But nothing showed Chris’ desire as eloquently as his expression, turned to him now as Chris awkwardly shifted to his back. His pupils were blown wide and took a moment to find Zach’s face and focus. When they did, his expression was exquisite, making Zach’s heart clench as a whispered ‘ _Zach’_ shuddered in the air between them.

“I’ve got you, baby.” And it was nearly time, his own cock hard again and Chris nearly incoherent in his need. But he loved this part, and wanted to savor _everything._ He slowly pressed his fingers in again, holding one of Chris’ legs up and out of the way and he licked a stripe up his cock. Chris tensed under him, groaning almost _too_ loudly, and pressed a hand against his mouth as he arched into the touch.

Zach slid his fingers back into that tight heat as his mouth teased and licked Chris’ cock, finally taking it into his mouth. Chris was close — too close to do this for long — but he wanted to feel every reaction, everything he’d missed in the last...well months really, as they each ran from one responsibility to another. He wanted to remind himself of all the ways he knew Chris, mind and body. All the ways he knew to make him happy. He curled his fingers and felt Chris writhe beneath him, cock jerking in his mouth, hands scrabbling in the sheets, making their way to Zach’s shoulders in incoherent warning. But Zach didn’t need them to know he had Chris right at the edge. He released his cock and removed his hand, wiping it quickly on the sheet before climbing up Chris’ body.

Chris’ eyes were unfocused until Zach came into view, but then nearly pierced him with blue, vibrant need.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered as he threaded his clean hand through Chris’ hair and lined himself up with Chris’ opening.

Chris grasped at his shoulders and pulled him down into a scorching kiss as he breached his body, and Zach was overwhelmed with intense heat and a sense that he was _home_. It was everywhere. In the way Chris clung to him, almost guided him as his body welcomed Zach inside with nearly no resistance. The way they both breathed together between kisses, finding a rhythm together naturally, rocking together _just_ the way they needed to make sure Zach was grazing Chris’ prostate on each thrust.

The way Chris wrapped his legs high around Zach’s waist so he sank even deeper into Chris’ body, and then groaned in joy.

“I am so fucking _yours_!” Chris whispered harshly against Zach’s ear. “I’m so yours, Zach. God, I love you so much.”

The way he felt grounded in Chris’ body even as his heart soared.

“I love you, too, Chris.” It sounded feeble after the ferocity of Chris’ declaration, but it was the truest thing he’d ever said. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. Never… I never should have doubted…” his thrusts faltered.

“Shhh. None of that.” Chris threaded a hand through Zach’s hair and slid the other arm to Zach’s waist, allowing Zach to lift up enough to focus on Chris’ face. He was smiling so fucking _beautifully_ it hurt. Chris wiped some moisture away from Zach’s eye. “Just like this. Just us.”

They found their rhythm again, Zach memorizing every expression on Chris’ face until his own pleasure overwhelmed him again and he lowered his face to Chris’ shoulder, breathing in his warmth and scent, _feeling_ as well as hearing his gasps and moans. It was only moments before the intensity shifted, Chris growing more urgent as he rocked his body to meet Zach’s, tightening his arm around Zach’s waist to gain some friction against his cock.

“That’s it, baby,” Zach whispered. “I’m yours. Take everything you need.” He thrust harder, faster, knowing that was what Chris would ask for next, knowing that he was close enough he would still beat Zach to the precipice, even though Zach was careening toward it himself. In that moment, as Chris stiffened and arched beneath him, he swallowed every cry in a scorching, greedy kiss. One, two, three more thrusts and he was coming again, deep inside Chris’ trembling body.

The sound of the heater intruded on his mind some unknown time later, after his breathing and heartbeat had slowed enough that the outside sounds could penetrate the pleasant fog of his mind. Chris was sprawled beneath him, relaxed, stroking one hand up and down his spine in easy, unhurried paths. Zach turned his head and kissed Chris’ jaw, earning a smile.

“Hmm. Hand me my t-shirt?”

Zach reached under the pillow next to him, blindly searching for the shirt Chris routinely stored there to sleep in just as his mind caught up with the request.

“You sure? I can get a wash cloth.”

“I’m sure. It’s an old shirt.” Chris said, taking it and mopping up the mess between them. “And there’s no way I’m letting you out of this bed, even for a moment.”

Chris was back to manhandling him — getting them both cleaned up and arranging them so he was the little spoon, pulling the covers up over his shoulders as he snuggled back into Zach’s chest. Amused, Zach waited for Chris to settle and then wrapped his arm snugly around his waist and burying his nose in the hair at Chris’ nape. It smelled of sweat and sex and Christmas and he hummed in bone-deep contentment before drifting off to a dreamless, easy sleep.

He woke to a bright, warm room and a naked Christopher sprawled over him and half the covers gone because _someone_ had overheated and kicked them all off and—

And the sound of the turning door handle, _holy shit._ He jerked his head up and met Chris’ with a _thunk_ and a pain in his nose and flashes of Three Stooges scenes dancing in his stinging eyes. Chris was grabbing at the covers, but their legs were out and there was no way to hide that they were naked. His mind began searching for something to say to his son when the sound occurred again and he remembered _the door was locked_. He grasped Chris’ arm to still him and they both listened as a sweet, toddler voice called out, “Daddy! Babbo! G’up!”

It was answered by a hushed voice on the other side of the door. “No, sweet boy. We’re going to let them sleep, remember. We’re going out.”

“Grumbles,” Nathan protested.

“We’ll get breakfast on the way to the church. A special breakfast. Daddy and Babbo will eat when they get up. Don’t worry about them. And we’re going to be gone _all day_ ,” she said just a little louder, before they heard her shuffle their son down the stairs.

Chris dropped his forehead onto Zach’s chest, shaking with relieved laughter. “Your mom is such an enabler,” he said, blushing wildly. “How loud was I last night?”

They had started out quiet, Zach was sure. But they had both gotten pretty deep into what they were doing and not particularly aware of their surroundings, the state of the bed and clothes scattered all over the room case in point.

“Probably best not to think of it,” Zach answered, pulling Chris back down on his chest.

“I’m going to have to get her some flowers or something before I can look her in the eye again.”

Zach chuckled and held him tighter. “I’m sure we can find something. Though I’m pretty sure she’s aware we have sex, so it probably isn’t necessary.” Truth was, after some of their discussions regarding Chris’ reluctance in wedding planning, his mom might have actually been pleased to hear a few sounds coming through the walls, though he hoped they’d kept it down for the most part. “Maybe she’s a heavy sleeper?” he added hopefully.

Chris groaned, burying his face in Zach’s chest again. After a moment, though he was wrapping his arms around Zach and pressing kisses into his skin. “I regret nothing. Last night was fantastic. It felt so good to be with you again. If I blush around your mom for a few days, it’s all worth it.”

Zach couldn’t help but respond with a sweet kiss that turned inviting and then heated. And now when he moaned, Chris didn’t hold back at all. Fuck it felt absolutely decadent to have a day to themselves where they could just savor each other. And part of him wanted to take Chris apart right there, but then again, no need to hide behind locked doors.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go take a shower. There’s no drought, and no one to walk in on us.”

Chris didn’t even answer. He just smiled and grabbed the bottle of lube and walked — a little stiffly, Zach noted with a smile — naked across the hall, giving Zach a gorgeous view. He followed Chris, unable to keep his hands to himself, kissing him languidly as the water warmed. Once the room started filling with steam, they opened the glass door and moved under the water, rotating first so Zach was under the water, then Chris, and finally ending up with Zach pressed against the wall and Chris on his knees and _fucking christ_ it was even better than last night. Chris had two fingers in him, and was swallowing him down with such enthusiasm he was repeatedly hitting the back of Chris’ throat. He was far too close to losing it, and that’s not what he wanted this morning.

“Come here,” he said too softly, tugging at Chris’ hair to make the mind-blowing mouth stop for just a second. Chris looked up, question in his eyes.

“I want you.”

Chris’ eyes fell shut and a shudder passed through his body. He was back on his feet, pressed against Zach chest, all warm skin and warm kisses contrasting with the cool smooth glass behind him.

“You sure?”

Zach answered by taking the bottle of lube and coating Chris’ cock. The weight and girth were familiar, as was the expression of barely-contained bliss on Chris’ face, turning quickly to need.

God, Zach had missed this. Not just sex, but _Chris_. He turned, wanting him _everywhere_ right now. And Chris knew him and wouldn’t make him wait. Chris checked once more that Zach was open and slick, and then pressed slowly in.

It felt luxurious. Chris thick and hard inside him, thrusting slowly like he was savoring. An oil-slicked hand reaching around to stroke his cock in a matching, lazy strokes. Steam curling around them, mixing with Chris’ breath at his ear. The knowledge that the house was empty and he could be as loud as he wanted. He didn’t have to hold back _at all_. And Chris liked the noises he was making, judging by the groan and sudden intensity of his thrusts. And that was perfect. Zach braced his hands against the smooth, cool glass and pushed back, letting Chris in deeper. He shifted his hips just a bit and... _there!_ Fuck, _there…_ that was perfect. Almost perfect.

“Harder,” he cried out, but Chris could already tell, had already grasped his hips so tight there would probably be bruises. Zach’s orgasm crashed over him like a wave, whiting out his vision as Chris stiffened behind him, thrusting one last time and groaning loudly into the steamy air.

Zach just breathed for a moment, still braced against the glass, Chris slumped against his back, arms curled around his stomach. After a moment those arms tightened, and Chris smiled into his neck, a little huff of a laugh brushing against his cheek.

“Hmmm,” he agreed, not quite ready for words. He winced as Chris pulled out, but whatever residual pain he felt was soon forgotten as Chris turned him and gathered him in strong arms and kissed him soundly — deep and sweet and perfect. Chris turned him toward the water and carefully washed him, first his body, then his hair. It still felt erotic, though they were both relaxed and sated. By the time Chris had finished, Zach had recovered enough to reciprocate, letting Chris do the final touch with the argan oil, because Zach still hadn't mastered the fine line between shining-locks and too-greasy-better-wash-my-hair-again.

They returned to their room to dry off, naked skin brushing comfortably as they moved around to gather jeans and shirts and sweaters.

“Better use the thick socks,” Zach suggested. “We’ll be outside a bit. In fact, bring extras.”

Chris grabbed two pairs with a raised eyebrow. “You going to let me know what our itinerary is for the day?”

“Nope. It’s all a surprise.”

“But we _are_ going to Carnegie Mellon.”

Zach smiled, pleased that Chris was so adamant about seeing his alma mater. “Yeah, we’ll get to CMU, but not until later this afternoon. There are a few things I want to show you in town, first. And you’ll want the good camera. There’s some great architecture. I’m going to have to bring a book or something, because you’re going to get all engrossed.”

Chris gave him a crinkle-eyed grin that made Zach’s heart skip a little. And made him smile in a way he _knew_ looked a little goofy and a little shy. Which, considering what they’d been up to the last 12 hours, was patently ridiculous. Chris’ grin grew wider.

“Let’s get some food in you. You’re going to need stamina.” He started toward the door, but Chris stopped him as he passed with a hand on his hip, pulling him into an embrace and a sweet kiss that lasted long enough to make him sigh.

“I love you,” Chris whispered against his lips.

“Because I offered to feed you?”

Chris snorted a laugh, and it felt good to have Zach’s teasing interpreted correctly, without the awkwardness or hurt feelings that had been coloring everything lately.

“No. Though if you tell me we can have the rest of the tiramisu for breakfast, I might love you even more.”

They did eat tiramisu, but not until Zach scrambled some eggs for them, arguing that protein was a necessary counter to the sugar high. He also made only a small pot of coffee, suggesting they hit a cafe for “proper coffee” on their way into town.

“So where are we headed,” Chris asked from the passenger seat, cradling his double espresso to warm his hands. “And why did I need to bring extra socks?”

They were crossing the river, and Zach could actually see their destination in the skyline. “We’re starting downtown. And as for the extra socks… do you know how to ice skate?”

Chris almost choked on his coffee.

“Seriously? I mean, I’ve been a few times, but there aren’t a lot of ice-rinks in L.A. I always feel fortunate to make it around a few times without falling on my ass.”

“Well, it will be crowded, with lots of families and people who only skate at Christmas, so you’ll be in good company.” Zach navigated the familiar city streets. “When I was growing up we used to go to a small rink near my house, but there’s one downtown now that opened after I left college. I’ve never been, but the PPG was always a landmark we’d go to when I was growing up, and it’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, what’s it like?”

Zach pointed to the building they were driving past, black-glass ramparts reflecting the grey sky. “A futuristic castle.”

Chris craned his neck to see the pointed tops of the turrets disappearing from view as Zach turned into the underground parking. They quickly parked and gathered their things, climbing the stairs and emerging into a courtyard.

“Oh my god, it really _is_ a modern castle.” Chris was already snapping pictures as Zach answered that it was actually an office building, but that hadn’t stopped him and his friends from making up crazy stories when he was a kid.

Chris looked around the camera at him. “What, like you were knights with spaceships?”

“Android knights, actually,” Zach said, grinning. “But that would have been good, too.”

Loud, joyful music and squeals of laughter could be heard in the distance to his right. “Come on.”

He led them down a pathway and through an arch, entering a broad courtyard surrounded on four sides with gleaming black-glass castle walls. A giant Christmas tree rose from the middle of the courtyard, the centerpiece of a huge ice rink filled with laughing skaters. Chris flashed him a grin and took a few more pictures before looping the camera strap over his shoulders.

“Ready to show me how a real Pittsburgher does this.”

“Absolutely. Let’s rent some skates.”

It took three trips around, Zach carrying the camera “just in case,” before Chris really looked comfortable. He seemed surprised to get his “ice-legs” so quickly, but Zach wasn’t surprised at all. Chris had always been better at physical things than Zach was, catching on to stunts and blocking in fights and running across uneven sets with little rehearsal. He was clumsy in some ways — large hands fumbling with his phone, lack of spatial acuity causing him to bump into tables in crowded restaurants — but ask him to be constantly in motion in a relatively open space and he was practically graceful. Soon they were circling the rink hand-in-hand with the other couples and families, stopping occasionally to rest their ankles and let Chris take pictures of the Christmas tree reflecting off the modern lines of the buildings from various angles.

“It’s really lucky we don’t live in the age of film, because you would have had to change rolls three times already, and this is just our first stop,” Zach teased, fond amusement warming his tone. “Should have brought my book…”

And for that Chris turned the large lens on Zach and snapped a too-close-picture that probably included half his nose and one eye, out of focus.

“See, that right there? That would have been a total waste of film. At least with digital you can just take as many as you want and delete the mistakes.”

“I never delete pictures of you. You know that. Remember last Christmas?”

Zach huffed a laugh, because he _did_ remember last Christmas. And besides the numerous _disastrous_ pictures they took with Nathan and a variety of Santas, there was also a series of pictures Chris had taken in bed Christmas morning, Zach sleep ruffled and bleary and shirtless and not always in focus because they were too close for the lens. But Chris had kept every one.

“C’mon. Our time skating is almost up, and my legs are too much like jell-o already to buy another hour. Plus, places to see, pictures to take.”

Chris grinned and put the camera away, taking Zach’s hand.

When their hour was up, they wandered into the PPG Wintergarden, filled with more Christmas trees, a few hundred gingerbread houses, and model trains and trolleys traversing the candy cities.

“This is making me hungry,” Chris said, camera at his face as he took another picture.

Zach looked around the glass room, spotting a kiosk in the corner.

“You’re lucky, Pine. Someone anticipated just this problem.” They bought gingerbread men and more coffee, plus a few extras to take home to his mom and Nathan.

“He would love this,” Chris said.

Zach looked around, nodding. “It’ll be up for a while. Maybe we can make another trip later in the week. But for now, we should head to our next destination. You feeling suitably nourished?”

“Lead on,” Chris said licking his fingers and brushing crumbs from his sweater.

They went back to the car and Zach drove east, away from the rivers.

“Are we going to CMU now?” Chris asked, apparently familiar enough with the city to know they were headed in that direction.

“We have another stop first, but it’s in the same part of town.”

They parked off Schenley Drive, walking past the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh and Carnegie Museum of Natural History. When the Carnegie Music Hall came into view, Chris asked, “Is everything named after Carnegie?”

Zach laughed. “In this part of town, pretty much. But we’re not going to any of these. We’re heading over there.” Zach nodded to the gothic-styled skyscraper across the street. Chris already had his camera at his face.

“That’s stunning,” he murmured, framing a shot with a nearby tree for contrast.

“Wait until you see the inside.”

The upper floors of the Cathedral of Learning looked like any office or classroom, save the ornate shape of some of the windows. But the ground floor was _stunning_ , and looked like… well, a cathedral for learning. Peaked stone arches and gothic-styled three-storey columns utterly dwarfing the wooden benches, tables, and chairs meant for studying. It literally felt sacred, though the pursuits of the students at those tables were largely secular, based on the piles of textbooks scattered about.

“Zach, this is incredible!”

“I know. I used to study here when I needed a change of scenery. I always loved the drama of the place.” It was even more beautiful today. Narrow, lit Christmas trees flanked the doorways and lined the walls, making it look like something from a Harry Potter movie. The sun broke through the clouds outside so that the light streaming through the windows was a little brighter, creating shadows and highlights in the details of the architecture. Chris actually gasped. “You go have fun. Someone left a book for me to peruse,” he added, picking up an abandoned copy of Tom Stoppard’s _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead_. “I’ll meet you over at the far end.”

He sat in one of the benches at the end of the room, thumbing through the book and occasionally using his phone to take pictures of Chris taking pictures. Because really, he loved the way Chris threw himself into photography. The way he craned his neck to look for different angles, crouching or stretching to frame the shot the way he wanted. He made his way across the floor slowly, doubling back once when he missed an ornately carved chair that looked almost like a throne. Finally, he reached Zach and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I love this place,” he whispered, cognizant of the students working nearby.

Zach rose and took his hand. “There’s one more thing I want to show you before we move on to CMU. Come over here.” He led Chris to the edge of a large semi-circular alcove. “Now stand right here, facing this way, and listen.”

Confusion was clear on Chris face as Zach backed away, moving across to the opposite wall. He kept watching Chris as he leaned toward the wall and whispered Chris’ name. Chris startled.

“What’s happening?” was the whisper that came back to him. He grinned across the room to Chris, signalling he’d heard him.

“It’s a whisper room,” Zach answered. “For telling secrets from a distance.”

Chris smiled. “I love you,” he whispered back.

“That’s not a secret.”

Chris looked down for a second, chuckling, then answered, “Well, not to you.”

Zach walked back toward Chris, who met him part way and took his hand again.

“You going to show me your old stomping grounds now?” he murmured softly

“We’re in my old stomping grounds,” he said, moving them toward a side door. “But yeah, I’ll show you the rest.”

Chris squeezed his hand. “I want you to show me everything.”

And Zach did.

He took Chris to the drama department first, telling him about its history — how it had started in 1914 and was the oldest degree-granting drama program in the country. Of course, he barely recognized the place.

“This was all under construction when I was here,” Zach explained as they wandered around the beautiful Purnell Center. It was surprisingly busy for the day after Christmas. Offices were all closed, of course, but there were small groups of students milling about. The campus had always had a large international contingent that probably had difficulty getting home for the holidays. And drama projects were ongoing through the year; there was always something to rehearse.

They found an unlocked door that led to the new theater, and Zach felt a pang of envy that he never got a chance to perform in it. He was glad his alumnus donations were helping other students learn on the state-of-the-art stage. “Come on. I’ll show you where I performed some of the time.”

They headed across campus to where the Kresge Theater stood among some older buildings.

“It’s mostly used for music performances now, but during the construction it was shared with the School of Drama, and pretty much all of the Scotch ‘n’ Soda Club productions were done here too,” Zach explained. The stage was smaller than the new Purnell theater, but the theater was beautiful in its way, with wood-paneled walls and curved rows of seats. And it was the site of many firsts for Zach, including, he explained, what he considered to be his first _really good_ kiss. He took Chris backstage, behind the white velvet curtain that hid the dark, narrow space that was the scene of that memory, only to have Chris crowd him and kiss him senseless. And that was _fine_ , though after a moment he realized that he’d never be able to think of the first memory without appending this one. And that was probably Chris’ intent.

“I didn't say the best kiss,” Zach managed to whisper with a laugh as Chris took a breath. “Just my first good one.”

Chris’ mouth descended on him again, much to his amusement. The kiss ended a moment later, before things got inappropriately heated.

“Just wanted to make sure,” Chris said with a final nip.

“Like there’s any doubt,” Zach said, steering Chris back toward the wings. As they made their way back out to the the stage, a group of students carrying instruments were walking down through the house.

“We reserved the stage,” one of them called out. “Are you finished with it?”

“Yeah,” Zach assured. “We were just leaving.”

Another student did a double-take at his voice, focusing first on Zach and then Chris, eyes widening. Zach pulled Chris closer, raising an eyebrow at the student as if to say _yes, he’s exactly who you think he is, and he’s mine, and he’s on vacation._

“Thanks,” she stammered, blushing and grinning as she moved over to one of her friends. He pulled Chris up the aisle toward the door and hoped their foray wouldn’t hit the twitterverse until they were headed home.

“C’mon,” Zach said. “Ready to take some more pictures?”

Zach took him into the College of Arts, one of the original campus buildings. Chris’ gasp at the ceiling told him he’d made a good choice.

“Jesus, look at this,” Chris said, snapping pictures of the mural on the ceiling. “Michelangelo, Mozart, Handel… oh god, Victor Hugo! What are those notes?”

Zach craned his neck to read the treble clef staff painted into one of the arches. “No idea. Wrong major.”

He waited until Chris’ enthusiasm waned, and then led him over to Baker Hall to see the vaulted Guastavino stairwell that MIT still hadn’t quite worked out the physics of. Zach leaned against the wall and watched as Chris craned and waxed on about angles and shadows and the solidity of tile and the impossibility of all that open space and air beneath the weighty, curved stairwell. Zach was grinning, snapping surreptitious pictures with his phone, when Chris abruptly looked up at him.

“I'm taking too long, aren’t I?”

“No! You're absolutely fine.”

“But you don't seem as excited as I am.”

“Well, I got off on all this decades ago. Which is why I wanted to share it with you. I’m having fun watching your reactions.”

Chris grinned, camera at his face again, and Zach snapped another shot with his phone as Chris’ shutter clicked.

They climbed all the way to the top, where a series of arches caught the afternoon light. After a few more shots Chris said, “Well, I think I'm done. And getting hungry.”

“That gingerbread was a while ago.” Zach looked out the window, thinking of his favorite restaurants in Oakland. But he wasn’t really ready for that. Biting his lip, he said, “There are still a few things I want to show you on campus, so I’d rather not head to a restaurant yet, but if you’re willing to rough it, the student commons probably still has cheesesteaks or something.”

“Actually, that sounds perfect.”

They were as greasy and disgustingly fantastic as he remembered, and Chris seemed to enjoy them too, based on the frankly pornographic sounds he was making. When they finished, Zach took his hand and led him through the rest of the art buildings, through outdoor art installations that had been built since he left. To his favorite library, where he showed Chris the metal doors with the figures for architecture, prosperity, education, and wisdom. He showed him the corner of the building where he studied. And then he took him up the stairs, all the way to the roof.

They walked to the south side, away from the rest of the campus, overlooking the expanse of Schenley Park. The temperature was dropping again, clouds looking low and dark over bare trees and distant buildings. Zach pulled Chris in front of him, wrapping arms around his waist and resting his chin on Chris’ shoulder as they both looked out over the view.

“So you used to come up here?” Chris asked quietly, sensing the peace that had descended on Zach.

“Yeah. To smoke, mostly,” he added guiltily. “But also sometimes when I needed… I don’t know. Perspective, maybe. You can see so far, and sometimes when you’re always in rehearsal rooms and libraries and dorms and backstage, you forget that there’s a whole world out there. I would come up here and just wonder about the future. I was fairly confident, by the time I was a year or two into the program, that I’d have some kind of career in acting. I never really imagined movies, but plays, maybe television. I could see that. But I was really insecure about everything else. Whether I’d ever really come out. Whether I’d find love, or even people who really accepted me. A family was actually beyond my imagination back then, I think.” He paused for a moment as Chris ran his hands along Zach’s arms, squeezing. Zach kissed his cheek and held him tighter. “What we have… everything...even with my career back-burnered at the moment. If I told my 1997-self what I have now, I don’t think he’d believe me.”

Chris’ tightened his arms over Zach’s and silence descended softly, like snow. In the distance, Christmas lights were just visible in the weak afternoon light, clustered in dormant trees.

“It’s the same for me, you know,” Chris said quietly. “Exactly the same. We’re lucky.”

“We are.”

Chris turned in his arms and kissed him. Sweet. Solid. And Zach was grateful he’d have these kisses for a long time to come.

Chris hummed and pulled back, licking his lips like he was savoring Zach’s taste. He turned back to the view, pulling Zach’s arms back around him.

“So what is all that open space?” he asked.

“Schenley Park. Think Central Park, but less central.”

“And that?” he asked, nodding at the dome surrounded by Christmas lights.

“That’s the conservatory. It’s cool. I went on a field trip as a kid. Fifth grade, maybe? The architecture is really fantastic.” Zach considered the colored lights adorning the trees in the distance. “It looks like they have some festivities for the holidays. Do you want to go?” he asked abruptly, moving so he could see Chris’ face. “We still have time before we have to head back, and it’s right there.”

“You sure? Nothing else on campus you want to show me?”

He shook his head. “We’ve seen everything important,” he said, taking Chris’ hand. “Now I’m curious, too. And we probably don’t have time to go anywhere else, so we can head home, or go explore the plants. I vote for exploring. Plus, it’ll be warm. It’s basically a big greenhouse.” As if on cue, a few flakes of snow fell gently and dusted Chris’ hair.

Chris smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners as he looked up and tried to catch a snowflake. After a moment he said, “Warm sounds good. Lead on.”

They collected the car first, not wanting to walk back in the dark and snow. Lit trees lined the road as they approached. They parked and walked up the broad shoveled path flanked by curved stairs to the upper gardens. They were empty, of course, blanketed in snow and blue shadows in the cooling late afternoon. The glass building before them, on the other hand, shimmered and glowed, domes rising against the purple-grey sky like a reverse snow globe.

They entered the building, shoving scarves and hats into Zach’s bag as they appreciated the humid warmth. This late in the afternoon there was no line for tickets, and far more people leaving the building than entering. But Zach couldn’t regret handing over his credit card for an abbreviated visit as he watch Chris’ eyes light up when they walked into the central, high, oblong dome. It was still completely decked out for Christmas: rows of red poinsettias flanking the path, a _tree_ made of poinsettias at one end, and hanging clusters of white poinsettias bedecked with red ribbons floating above their heads like the candles at Hogwarts Castle. And Christmas trees. So many christmas trees. Nathan would have loved it, at least briefly. To Zach, it was just this side of garish. But looking past the baubles and temporary arrangements of holiday plants, beyond the dripping broad red ribbons and the piped-in holiday music, the beauty of the place was more subtle. Towering palms of dark, tropical green contrasting against the white and glass of the structure and the grey and white of the clouds outside.

Chris peeled off his coat, absently handing it to Zach and changing the lense on his camera before kneeling in the corner of the room, aiming up to snap a picture and then checking the screen before moving on. Zach stood in the same spot afterward, trying to see what had caught Chris’ attention: the curve of a huge palm leaf mirroring the curve of the dome, white ornamentation suggesting of the conservatory’s Victorian roots, though this building was not part of the original greenhouse. He turned to see Chris focused on more detailing of the building, changing lenses again to capture the intricacy of the metal scrollwork supporting the domed ceiling. He bit back a smile as he watched Chris twist and reach to get the angle he wanted. It was going to be a few minutes before Chris came up for air from behind the lens. He was glad they’d come.

“Hey, I’m going to go take all of this to the coat check, okay?”

Chris peered around the camera at him. “Getting hot, too?”

“Yeah, we’re dressed for outdoor ice skating. I’ll be right back. Will you head this way next? Into the west wing?” Zach asked, pointing to the door at the end of the room.

“Sure. I probably won’t get far,” he said a little sheepishly.

Zach just grinned. It was good to see Chris relaxed and enjoying himself. And if Zach didn’t delight in watching Chris get puppy-level enthusiastic about architecture, he wouldn’t have spent the day feeding that particular madness. He now had a whole series of clandestine shots of Chris contorting under stairwells and domes and archways… he was going to have to make a collage for Instagram.

Free of the armfuls of outerwear he’d been carrying, he wandered through a long and narrow room with a low, arched ceiling and meandering path. Chris was nowhere to be seen, but Zach noticed another high dome at the end of this path. Hands in his pockets, he strolled to the end of the room, nodding at the other patrons as he passed and feeling happily unburdened, both physically and emotionally. He admired the odd plants from around the globe as he walked. This room had been cleared of Christmas decorations, though there were still fairy lights along the edges of the glass and carved snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, somewhat incongruous with the warm air that had him pushing up his sleeves.

He found Chris in the next dome, kneeling in front of a small waterfall and pond draped with lush tropical vines, and displays of Chihuly glass. Chris smiled and turned the camera on Zach as way of greeting.

“This place is amazing! Look at this,” he said, scrolling through the photos on the camera to show Zach what he’d missed… or rather what he’d seen himself, but not in quite the way Chris had seen it, not with the same clarity and focus. “Did you see that flowering vine when you first came in here? With the red blossoms? God it smelled good.”

Chris took his hand and led him around, pointing out views he particularly liked. “It’s like a study in contrasts,” Chris continued. “The natural with the built, the antique with the modern. The vibrant colors of the plants with the almost ethereal lightness of the walls and ceiling.”

Zach nodded as they moved around the room, listening to Chris extol the virtues of the conservatory. One of the doorways was cordoned off, the room beyond set up for an event with white folding chairs and flowers, so they kept moving, pausing occasionally for more photos, until they had exhausted these rooms and moved back to the central dome. While it hadn’t really been crowded before, now there were only a handful of other people: overtired kids and frazzled parents shunting them toward the exits. He and Chris followed the path into the east wing, leaving behind the echos of “I’m not tired” for the relative quiet of the Serpentine Room, another long, narrow greenhouse room with a winding brick path and raised beds filled with flowers and fountains. The curve of the low glass ceiling showed a perfect view of the snow falling heavily outside. More contrasts, Zach thought. Interior and exterior. Warm and cold. He saw that huge icicles lined the roof edge outside. They looked as though they’d been placed there as decorations, but were surely just a testament to the poor insulation of glass. Whatever snow had fallen earlier had melted from the roof only to refreeze at its edges.

The next high dome was a veritable grotto, some ferns as tall as palm trees and actually touching the glass at the apex, others low and crawling along the moist earth. Zach leaned against a low brick wall to watch Chris line up some new shots, actually laughing as Chris leaned back so far for a shot that he had to catch his balance. He straightened, glancing embarrassedly at Zach.

“I like that view of the fern tree with the glass seeming to radiate from it and the snow falling but never touching it,” he explained as Zach walked over and wrapped his arms around him, looking up to see what Chris saw. They were the only ones in the Fern Room, so he didn’t hesitate to kiss the embarrassment away.

“It’s a good view,” Zach agreed. “And the perfect way for my Cali boy to enjoy the Pittsburgh winter.” He grinned at Chris and kissed him again under the canopy of fern fronds and snow flurries, pulling out his phone and shooting a selfie from his hip looking up. He showed it to Chris after. It wasn’t high art by any stretch, but it captured the moment perfectly: their kiss, dark green leaves, white geometry of the dome. Chris froze, staring at the photo for a moment and then looking around the room, as if seeing it anew...

“What’s wrong?” Zach asked.

“Nothing.” When Zach remained tense, Chris kissed him sweetly. “Really. Nothing’s wrong. Stay right there.”

Chris backed up and raised the camera to his face, taking several pictures of Zach, and then kneeling to change the angle and get the snow and ferns in the background. He stood, looking at the screen on the back of the camera to check his pictures...biting his lip.

“What?” Zach asked again. Because he didn’t think it was bad, but it definitely wasn’t “nothing.”

Chris shook his head slightly, “I just… I had the _craziest_ idea. Like, there’s really no way this could work, but I suddenly really, really want it.”

Zach wrapped his arms around Chris again. “What do you want, baby?” he asked softly, kissing the side of Chris’ mouth.

“Look at this,” he showed Zach the picture he’d just taken of him. It was striking. Dramatic. “It’s beautiful, right? And it’s in your home. And…” He trailed off, looking around.

“Chris?”

“I want to marry you here, Zach. Like, right now. When it looks and feels like this, with the snow falling outside and the ferns and palms and—”

“You want to get married _now_?”

“I know. It’s crazy. I don’t even know if they host weddings here. And if they do, they’re probably booked out for months, because look at this place! And we don’t have anything planned...I mean we have rings, and that’s it. And how would we get everyone here on such short notice? How long does it even take to get a wedding license here? I have no idea. But yeah, I want to marry you here, in 70 degree weather with the snow falling around us. I want a wedding canopy made by nature, without risking paparazzi descending in helicopters. I want this. And you.”

Zach kissed him hard, mind reeling at the possibilities. It was crazy. Insane. And _wonderful_. And would either have to happen in the next week and a half, or not for a year.

“I think they do host weddings. That room that was roped off with the white chairs...that was probably for a wedding, right?”

Chris grinned.

“And we have more than just the rings. Remember when we were shopping for suits last summer, and you said you wanted to marry me in that brown one with the vest? I had it made. It’s in the closet at home.”

“Oh my god, did you really?” Chris kissed him.

“Hmmm. And there’s one for you, too, in that golden tan I liked on you. And you’ve basically written the ceremony.” He gave a little shrug. “It’s not like we’d need much in the way of flowers. And Joe’s coming in for New Year’s anyway. So as long as your family can come, drop by our house for the clothes first...we could charter a small jet to get anyone from L.A. here. I mean, there’s still a lot to plan. Hotels for everyone. Catering. An officiant. But it’s not insurmountable, I think. It might be, but we can definitely try.” He bit his lip. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted it, too. “I think we should try.”

Chris’ smile was incandescent, and Zach felt almost lightheaded with giddy joy.

“Maybe they have someone on staff we could ask,” Chris suggested.

They went back to the entrance, which was nearly deserted except for the gift shop. “Excuse me?” Zach asked of the woman behind the information desk— Barbara, according to her name badge. “Is there someone we can talk to about a planning a private event?”

“Helen Jacobson,” the woman said without looking up. “She’s probably gone for the day. We’re closing in fifteen minutes.”

“I know. And I’m sorry, but is there any way you could see if she’s still here. We just have a few quick questions.”

“Please,” Chris added, and the young woman finally looked up at them, eyes widening.

They’d enjoyed relative anonymity all day, but if being recognized was going to help them now, Zach wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Hold on,” she said. “Stay right here.” They smiled as she backed into a room behind her and made a call, whispered voice insistent with the person on the other end.

She came out a moment later. “Helen will be here in a few minutes. She has to come down from the Special Events Hall.”

“Thank you, Barbara,” Zach said, watching her blush.

“I’m going to go clear the back greenhouses of guests. But she’ll be right here.”

The poor woman almost scampered away.

“Well, at least it’s almost empty,” Zach said, taking Chris’ hand. “The twitterverse might hear that we were here, but we won’t be bothered much.”

“We’ve gotten off surprisingly lightly,” Chris agreed. “The thick coats and hats have probably helped.”

“Yeah, and the fact that most people are focused on their own families, like we are. This isn’t Hollywood. No one’s expecting to see anyone from the movies.”

The click of high-heeled shoes interrupted that train of thought, and they turned to see a woman in a cream suit approach them with purpose.

“Gentlemen. I’m Helen Jacobson, event coordinator here at the conservatory. How can I be of service?”

“Zach Quinto,” Zach introduced himself. “And this is Chris Pine.”

“Yes, I’ve been made aware,” she said with a smirk. She just looked amused though, not annoyed that they were calling her so close to the end of the day.

“Sorry. We’ll try to be quick,” Zach assured. “We were wondering about planning a wedding. You host them here, right?”

“Certainly,” she said, smile widening. Looking around at the guests eyeing them she added, “Let’s move into the Palm Court. It’s a little more private.”

When she’d ushered them to a bench in the corner of the vaulted dome, she asked, “When did you have in mind?”

“Sometime in the next week and a half?” Chris asked hopefully. “Is that even possible?”

She frowned and swiped the tablet she’d been carrying, scrolling through pages and shaking her head. “The Special Events Hall is booked straight through that time. We have two weddings and a New Year’s Eve party. That’s our only large space I’m afraid.”

“What about the room down that hall?” Chris asked, pointing at a door. “It looked set up for a wedding.”

“The Broderie Room. It only seats thirty-five.”

“That’s fine. We want a small wedding,” Zach said, taking Chris’ hand.

She swiped the tablet a few more times, concentrating on what she was reading. “It’s booked, too. There are weddings every three days, and that’s the tightest we can pack them in order to clean the areas and prep them.”

Disappointment flooded Zach. He’d been sure, for some reason, that this was so crazy it _had_ to work. Judging from Chris’ face, he was feeling the same.

“Well, it was a long shot,” Chris said, rubbing his jaw. “I can look at my schedule again when we get home. Maybe there’s another break in filming, and we can give Helen a call.”

Zach knew better than to think that would work. They’d just gone over how crazy his schedule was the rest of the year, and now Zach was starting a project at the end of the summer, right after Trek. But he smiled and squeezed Chris’ hand. “Sure. We’ve waited this long. A few more months won’t hurt. There won’t be snow, but—” He gave a little shrug.

Helen was still swiping at the tablet, frowning at pages of calendar events, zooming into details, zooming back out and swiping again, first right, then left, as if she were double checking something.

“Gentlemen, give me just one moment. I really want to help you if I can. I may have… yes.” She looked I can offer you Palm Court — this room — on January 1st. The New Year’s Eve party is just in the Special Events Hall and rainforest. We have a wedding in the Broderie Room on the second, so that wing will be closed off. But you can have this room for the ceremony, and the reception can span the Palm Court, South Conservatory, and the entire east wing.”

“Including the Fern Room?” Chris asked.

“Yes, including the Fern Room,” she answered with a smile. “Will that work for you?”

Zach looked around at the frankly disturbing number of red poinsettias. They had looked festive — if a bit garish — when they first arrived. But they were not what he’d wanted for his wedding. Nor were the Christmas trees.

“We would, of course, clear out the holiday plantings before that,” she said, clearly reading Zach’s concern. “We’re closed to the public the two days before that, and I can have teams working through the night to take down Christmas and put in the new plantings. We can even incorporate something you want in these hanging baskets,” she pointed to the white poinsettia balls hanging from the ceiling, “if you’re willing to pay to have it changed out for what normally belongs there afterward.”

“Which is?” Zach asked.

She wiped to another screen on the tablet. “Looks like some hanging cream fuchsias are scheduled for installation. They should be in the growing greenhouse if you want to look, but here’s a picture. Pretty neutral. Dark foliage, buttery-cream flowers, each one about two inches long, in clusters of 20-30.”

Zach looked at it and raised an eyebrow to Chris, who was craning his neck to look.

“So those would be hanging, and then something else would replace these?” Chris asked, pointing to the rows of red poinsettias in the raised beds.

“What do you want?” Helen asked, looking up at him. “We have a greenhouse full of things. It’s much easier to change out things in the planters. We can make them whatever you want. Do you have a florist?”

Chris laughed. “Uh, no. We have nothing. I mean, we have some things. But no florist, or caterer, or officiant. And if we’re doing this, we have less than six days to figure all that out.”

Helen didn’t looked panicked at all. “Well, you’re in luck. Because I know people who can perform all of those functions. I’m assuming that, given the constricted timeline and the fact that it’s over the holidays, we can be a bit flexible on the budget — paying for overtime and such?” She paused as Zach nodded and absently waved his hand. He wasn’t about to let cost get in the way of this happening. “Then I think we can get everything done. But only if this is what you want. I want to help you gentlemen. But only if it’s what you want.”

He and Chris looked at each other, each raising their eyebrows.

“We’d like to keep this quiet,” Chris said, his gaze never leaving Zach. “We want it to be private. Just our families and a few close friends Can you do that for us?”

“Yes,” Helen assured. “You’re definitely the most famous people we’ve had use our facility, but we can keep it quiet. Barbara is the only other person who even knew you were here, and I can talk to her. I’ll take care of all your arrangements personally, and we can put it in the ledger under a different name. We’ll make sure you get your private ceremony.”

Chris grinned. “Well then. I think we have some calls to make.”

Zach stood and kissed him. _Holy shit._ They were doing this. They were getting married in six days.

 

\---------------------------

Some picspiration for this chapter:

[Mood board 1](http://ato-the-bean.tumblr.com/post/151629325005/ato-the-bean-mood-board-cleaving-chapter-7-pt1)

[Mood board 2](http://ato-the-bean.tumblr.com/post/151892075000/mood-board-for-cleaving-chapter-7-pt-2-though)

[Mood board 3](http://ato-the-bean.tumblr.com/post/152309283190/bonus-mood-board-cleaving-chapter-7-because-zach)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks again to Ducky and Punk, the best betas and hand holders a girl could want. This was going to be the last chapter, but I've ended up splitting things, so I think we have one more and then an epilogue to go. Thanks so much for your patience; I've taken a ridiculously long time with this. The link to a mood board with picspiration is at the end of the chapter.

“Zach!”

Zach gave himself one last look in the mirror over the sink, smoothing his hair before turning to cross the hall.

“What’s wro—”

He stopped in his tracks, struck by the view of Chris in his suit. The golden tan of the fabric complemented his coloring perfectly and the cut of the jacket emphasized broad shoulders and narrow hips, and _Christ_ he looked good. Zach was suddenly glad they hadn’t tried to keep the tradition of not seeing each other before the ceremony. Because his reaction? Not something that he’d want to have both their mothers witness. He subtly adjusted himself as he moved forward to where Chris was focused on his own reflection, fingers messing with his collar.

“I can’t get the tie straight,” Chris said. “I don’t want it to look like crap in the pictures.”

Huffing a laugh, Zach nudged Chris’ hands out of the way. “Let me.”

He untied the knot and started again, nimbly fixing the tie while saying with a small smile, “I’m definitely in charge of teaching Nathan how to do this. You have some sort of complex.”

“I can manage when you’re not around, but for some reason if you are, I’m all thumbs.”

“You just like the help,” Zach suggested, making a final adjustment and kissing Chris’ cheek before stepping back. “Better?”

Chris glanced back at the mirror and nodded. “Thanks.” He fiddled with his hair, now, trying to brush the Steve Trevor bangs out of his face and losing the battle with gravity. “I wish I could cut my hair, though,” he added.

“I don’t,” Zach answered simply. “I like the bangs.” He leaned in and whispered, “Gives me something to hang onto later.” Chris’ breath hitched as Zach pulled back. “You look great. Delicious, actually. Perfect.”

Chris eyes roamed his face, relief and love and humor and something more solemn in his expression. “Good. And you, as always… this turned out even better than I’d hoped,” he said, running a finger along his lapel. “I’m so glad you got them. Can you believe in another hour or two—”

The doorbell rang.

“That’ll be your folks to drive you.” He leaned forward and gave Chris a chaste but lingering kiss. “Better get downstairs before I make you very, very late.”

Chris huffed a laugh against Zach’s lips. “Okay. Have we got everything? Rings?”

Zach held up the box and returned it to his pocket.

“Helen and Katie are sorting the flowers and food and everything, so I guess I just need my wallet. And I’ll take the suitcase.”

“Okay,” Zach said, reaching behind him to offer Chris the duffle.

“See you there,” Chris said, taking it, passing to give Zach one more kiss. “Don’t be late.”

“We’ll be right behind you.”

Zach made sure he had his wallet and the notecard with his vows in case he got ridiculously nervous, and then rummaged under his sweaters to retrieve a crisp, white envelope. He was hiding it in an interior pocket of his jacket when Nathan walked in.

“How are you, Little Man? Almost ready to go?”

“Nat’an fancy,” he said, pointing at his brown vest.

“You are fancy,” Zach said picking him up and straightening his newsboy cap. “How about Nonna? Is she fancy yet?”

Nathan frowned and looked over his shoulder toward the hall.

“Red.”

Zach wasn't sure what that meant. “Go tell her 5 minutes, okay? Like this.” He splayed all of Nathan's fingers. “Five.”

Nathan scampered down the hall, and Zach grabbed his keys and went downstairs, thinking through the checklist. Wedding planning had gone remarkably smoothly, all things considered. It was no doubt a combination of having Helen, a consummate professional, a “flexible” (i.e. as large as it needed to be) budget, and a time constraint that basically forced Zach to let go of details he might have otherwise obsessed over for the better part of a year. He had every faith that it was going to come together and be beautiful… he just didn’t know all of the details of _how exactly_ it would be beautiful. And part of him was irked by that, but part of him was profoundly relieved. Because he knew in his heart of hearts that, given the opportunity, he could have given any “bridezilla” a run for her money. With the time limitations, he was forced to take Chris’ more Zen approach. They had let Helen set them up with a florist, a caterer for appetizers, an officiant, and a string quartet within a day. The officiant took Chris’ notebook and their ideas for readings and created a coherent ceremony full of details Chris and he would have taken weeks to piece together. He also made sure all of the marriage license paperwork was ready in time. Chris hit it off with the florist and the greenhouse keeper and basically took over all botanical endeavors.

The one detail Zach couldn’t seem to let go of, of all things, was the _cake_. The high-end bakeries in town were booked out, and Zach was mortified by the second-tier bakeries and their buttercream rose-infested monstrosities. Seriously, he’d have had as much luck at the local grocery store. And he and Chris both _hated_ buttercream frosting. In a fit of desperation, after visiting 5 bakeries and seeing the patience on Helen’s face start to crack, he called a friend in New York who made what were essentially sculptures out of cake and fondant. Marco had always said he’d wanted dibs on making Zach’s wedding cake, but that was before Nathan. And there wasn’t time for one of his works of art, anyway. And he was booked New Year’s Eve, Zach learned. Still, once he’d recovered from his shock that Zach was getting married in four days (by that point) and was considering getting a box of cupcakes with dinosaurs on them — because at least then Nathan would be happy — Marco had sprung into action.

“I’ve worked it out,” he’d said when he called about an hour after Zach’s desperate plea for advice.

“Worked what out? You found a bakery?”

“I found a pastry chef in Pittsburgh who’s going to bake the cakes for me and let me into his kitchen to construct and decorate. You have your choice of lemon almond cake or olive-oil rosemary. He works in an Italian restaurant and those are his specialties.”

Zach had been stunned. “Those both sound amazing. Lemon will probably appeal to more people. How are you going to have time to—”

“What do you know about the naked cake movement?”

“Uh, nothing? Though I guess maybe I’ve seen things in magazines that could be considered naked cakes… sort of rustic looking?”

“They can be like that, but they can also be quite elegant, especially if just a bit of frosting is used to smooth out the colors and shape. But the underlying cake shows through a bit, making it reminiscent of wood. I think it would work with what you’ve described of your wedding, and I can dress it with flowers from your florist. A cake for thirty-five made like that, I have time for. I promise, Zach, it will look exquisite and unique and as masculine as wedding cakes get, and it will not have an ounce of dreaded buttercream frosting. I just need your florist’s information and your trust.”

Zach had given both without hesitation and had made a note to buy Marco a case of the best Prosecco he could find, because he wouldn’t accept payment beyond the cost of the flight. He was apparently doing a wedding cake for the pastry chef’s daughter in the spring in exchange for his help, and wanted nothing from Zach except bragging rights for designing the wedding cake after the fact. Zach felt amazingly fortunate.

He got a glass of water and checked his phone for texts. A surprising number of people had made the trip from LA. Chris’ family, of course, but also quite a few members of their Trek family — John and Zoe and their families, Karl. Other friends, too, who had known them even longer. Patrick, Corey, and Neal had come in straight from various holiday excursions, partners in tow. All told there would be nearly thirty people, including a handful of kids. Everyone had arrived and got settled into their hotels, but he hadn't had a chance to see anyone but family yet.

Joe had brought an assistant as well as a date. He insisted on taking portraits, but since he was standing up with Zach, he needed help during the ceremony.

“You’re gonna be late!” came the bellow from the garage.

Speak of the devil…

“I'm ready, we’re waiting on Ma!” he called back, checking his phone and realizing that five minutes had somehow turned into fifteen. He put the glass in the sink and headed toward the garage door, where Joe twirled his keys impatiently.

He stopped and grinned when he saw Zach. “Looking very presentable, baby brother. Now we just have to get you there before Chris thinks you changed your mind. Ma, there’s traffic!”

“I’m ready,” she said serenely, coming down the stairs holding Nathan’s hand.

“Ma,” Zach said as he approached. “You look stunning.”

She gave him a pleased smile, looking down at the chiffon skirt. “Your new friend Helen is getting a Christmas card every year from now on. Do you know, before we started, I didn’t know the difference difference between Marsala and Merlot, at least as far as colors were concerned?”

“For shame,” Zach teased, kissing her cheek. “Whichever this one is, it's a good color on you.”

“And you look handsome, too, dear. Have I told you how proud I am of you boys?”

“You may have mentioned it once or twice,” Zach said.

“Do you have everything you need?”

Zach patted his jacket, feeling again for the envelope, notecard, ring box, and phone. Nodding, he said, “Let's go get me hitched.”

The roads were actually fairly clear, the snow plows having worked through the night, but ice remained in the shady patches and overpasses. Zach caught himself chewing at his thumb as they crawled through stop-and-go traffic across the bridge, the grey of the streets and skyline blending with the dark clouds that threatened more snow. The surroundings didn’t match his mood at all. They were sedate and he was… agitated. If his emotions were visible they’d bright and popping with color. He wasn’t nervous. It wasn’t cold feet: he was more sure about this than he had been about keeping Nathan. But there was something surreal about driving to his _wedding_ that made him feel separate from the things around him, the weight of the moment driving him inside his head. The soft banter of his mom and brother did nothing to ground him.

Finally, they made it across the river and through downtown and into Schenley Park, pulling into an employee lot near a side entrance of the conservatory. The sidewalk had been shoveled, but every gust of wind loosened a spray of snow from the laden branches of nearby trees. Zach held an umbrella to shield his mom, who grasped his elbow with one hand and Joe’s hand with the other.

“Careful, Nathan,” Zach called, reaching out his other hand for his son to grasp.

“Slipsy,” Nathan acknowledged.

“Put your cap back on, please. It will keep you warm.”

Nathan looked for a moment like he would argue, but then saw something in the distance that distracted him from arguing.

“Daddy! Lights! Trees!”

“I see them,” Zach said, nodding at the fairy lights in the trees. “Wait until you see inside.”

The side door opened as they approached, the warm, humid air washing over them as they stomped their feet and shook out the umbrella.

“Mr. Qunto. May I take your coats?”

Zach turned to see a familiar face. “Barbara? Has Helen pressed you into service?” he asked, helping his mom with her coat and then peeling off his own before helping Nathan with his buttons.

“I volunteered, actually. Most of your guests have arrived, but Helen wants to give everyone about fifteen more minutes because of the road conditions.”

“Who hasn’t made it?” Zach asked. He could hear the murmur of voices and music in the next room, and excitement spiked through his gut like he was about to go on stage for the first time. He patted his pockets again to make sure the rings, envelope, and notecard with his vows hadn’t miraculously vanished during the drive.

Barbara looked down at the tablet in her hand. “Saldana plus three,” she answered. “But they’ve texted to say they’re _en route_. The kids slowed them down.”

“Well, that happens. Chris and his family made it?”

Barbara smiled. “Just a minute ago. They’re in the Fern Room with Helen. She asked that I keep you and your family here and she’ll be joining you in a few minutes. Can I get you anything to drink while we wait? Water? Glass of wine?”

“Water please,” Margo said, taking Zach’s elbow again. “I need to be able to say my line nice and clearly.”

Zach squeezed his mom’s hand against his arm. Wine was tempting, but had a tendency to make him giddy when he was nervous. “Water for all of us, I think.”

Joe had slipped off to speak with the photographer and returned with Barbara, the waters, and a tray of flowers.

“Boutineers for the gentlemen,” Barbara said, “and this wrist corsage for you, Mrs. Quinto.”

Joe helped Zach pin his in place after fiddling with his own, and then they both helped with Nathan’s.

“Are we all straight?” Joe asked, turning to Margo.

“I wouldn’t be marrying Chris if I were straight,” Zach offered as he lined up for inspection.

“The flowers are straight,” Margo said with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m not going to speak for the rest.”

“I sort of resent them for it now,” Zach groused, looking down at his jacket lapel as a small laugh escaped. Oh god, he was _not_ going to get nervous giggles. That didn’t happen to him anymore. Ever.

“You’d resent them more in the pictures if they weren’t. Trust me.”

“The voice of age and experience,” Zach said, thinking of Joe’s early days as a wedding photographer.

“You have no idea how many times people have complained to me that the flowers in the pictures weren’t straight, like it was somehow my doing. In fact, I’m going to check Chris and Bob. Give me the rings, and I’ll give yours to Katie while I’m at it.” Zach handed over the box and watched as Joe disappeared through a doorway.

Zach patted his pockets absently again. “Barbara, did Helen remember her notary things?”

“Yes. And if she hadn’t, I could easily run and get them from her office. Don’t worry, Mr. Quinto; we’ve got you covered.”

Zach smiled and nodded and felt for envelope inside his jacket again. He pulled the notecard out to glance over his vows again, bending the corner as his lips moved silently.

“Nervous?”

He looked up to see his mom watching him.

“I guess. I mean, not really, but it all came together so quickly it still doesn’t quite feel real.”

“It will feel real when you’re up there. And besides, you two have been real for a long time.”

“I know. And you saw it before I did and will _never_ let me forget,” he said, lips quirking at her answering grin.

“Sometimes mothers are right,” she teased.

“Sometimes,” Zach acknowledged.

A squeal that was definitely Zoe’s voice came from the other room.

Margo’s smile widened. “Sounds like everyone’s here.”

Zach turned as he heard the familiar quick click of Helen’s shoes as she approached with Joe.

“Zach, Margo, how are we feeling?”

“He’s nervous,” Margo answered before Zach could open his mouth.

“I’m not,” Zach protested. “I just can’t believe the day is here already.”

“Not just the day,” Helen said with a smile. “The moment. Are you ready? Your ties and flowers look straight. Joe and Katie have the rings. Anything else before we start? Nathan, do you remember your line?”

“I do!”

“That’s my line actually,” Zach said with a smile, “but you’re close enough. I think we’re ready.”

Helen led them to the doorway where they were to wait, and Zach could see Katie in a doorway across the room, waiting for the processional to start. To his right, Zach could just see the last row of seated guests through the palms. All signs of Christmas had been stripped from the room, replaced by flowers of cream and green and deep wine red complementing the brown and green tones of the abundant palms. They had decided the overlapping leaves created enough of a wedding canopy that they didn’t want to add a chupah, but they did adopt one Jewish wedding custom. They were each being walked down the aisle by their families: Chris with his parents on either side of him, Zach flanked by his mom and his son.

They had worked in some traditions that Zach associated with weddings as well — the sipping of wine from a single cup after combining the contents of two — but their officiant had given it a different, more secular context: the blending of families into a new, single one.

The music stopped and the room grew hushed, and then the processional began. Joe turned to give Zach a wink before starting out toward the center aisle, matching his pace with Katie’s so they met and turned at the same time. Zach could hear the shutters of cameras off to his right as Joe and Katie moved toward the guests, and then Chris and his folks started toward him. The sight made Zach’s stomach flip.

“It Babbo!”

Soft laughter filled the room.

“Shhh. Yes, we’ll join him soon. It’s almost our turn. Hold my hand, please.”

Margo slipped her hand around Zach’s other arm, and as Chris and his folks turned to head down the aisle, Zach started out, trying to keep Nathan from rushing forward. His stomach fluttered again as they turned down the center aisle, and Zach finally got a view of all of their guests and the spectacle of the room. His eyes darted around the scene: cascades of flowers, soft light from the glass ceiling streaming through the shadows of deep green palms, friends and family with shining eyes and broad smiles. His steps faltered slightly as he recognized faces and felt the pull of so many friends to greet. But then his gaze found Chris, calm and happy as Zach had ever seen him. The nerves that plagued Zach all morning melted away as he moved _toward Chris._

The music faded just as Zach reached the front of the room, coming to stand a few feet away from Chris and half facing him.

The officiant cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved. We are gathered today to bear witness to the marriage of Zachary John Quinto and Christopher Whitelaw Pine. Who brings this man forward to be married?” he asked, turning toward Chris’ parents.

“We do,” they answered in unison, stepping back a moment later and leaving Chris at the altar.

“And who brings this man forward to be married?” He asked again, turning toward Zach.

“We do,” Margo answered as Nathan yelled, “I do.”

Laughter echoed through the room again as Margo stepped back, lifting Nathan onto her hip.

“Please be seated,” the officiant said with a warm smile, motioning Chris and Zach to come forward.

Chris turned toward him, his eyes bright as he smiled at Zach, and the rest of the room seemed to fade. Chris’ shining face and steady gaze filled his awareness. The words that they had written together came easily, vows spoken without prompting or nervous glances at dogeared notecards, voices strong and true. And before he knew it, Chris was slipping a ring onto his finger: a ring forged from the gold of his father’s wedding band and an heirloom of Chris’ family. And then he was slipping a ring onto Chris’ finger, hands trembling only slightly as he said, “With this ring, I thee wed.”

And finally, the last question from the officiant: Did they promise to love and honor each other for as long as they lived?

“I do,” said Chris. Zach had to blink a few times to clear his vision.

“I do,” Zach answered.

“I DO!” shouted Nathan, and with that everyone laughed.

“I guess it’s unanimous,” Zach said, shrugging and smiling at Chris, whose eyes crinkled with his answering grin.

“I now pronounce you married, by the power vested in me by the state of Pennsylvania. You may kiss.”

He felt Chris’ hands at his waist, pulling him closer as he curled fingers behind Chris’ neck and pulled him in for a kiss, the room erupting in applause and cries of joy.

The “woots” finally got loud enough to make Chris grin and break the kiss. He pulled Zach in for a hug and whispered “I love you so fucking much” against his ear, and then released him so they could both face their family and friends, hand in hand. Everyone was standing, and as the music began to play again they were each pulled into hug after hug, Zach’s starting with Nathan and his mom. Slowly the room cleared as Helen ushered people to the adjoining room, explaining that Zach and Chris had some papers to sign, after which they'd be joining everyone. Zach could hear the Prosecco being opened and poured in the next room as Chris came and took his hand in the temporary calm.

They were called over to a small table, along with Joe, Katie, and the officiant, to sign the marriage license.

“One more thing,” Zach said before Chris could step away. He pulled the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Chris.

“What’s this?”

“I thought that while we're at it, we may as well make everything official,” Zach said, motioning for Chris to open the envelope.

He watched Chris’ face as he read the document, confusion quickly changing to surprise and happiness. “Adoption papers?”

Zach nodded. “We’ve been talking about it for months. Helen’s a notary. You can sign them now and she can process them.”

“You changed his name,” Chris said, reaching for the pen Helen was offering.

“I’ve got that paperwork here,” Zach said, reaching for the envelope again. “Adding Pine between John and Quinto. We both have to sign it.” Zach looked up into Chris’ amazed face. “He’s always been both of ours, Chris. From the very first day, really. It just took us a while to catch up.”

Chris nodded, eyes shining and apparently unable to trust his voice. He signed both pieces of paper, handing them to Zach, who also signed. Then Helen stamped and signed them both.

“Congratulations, gentlemen. You’re officially a family.”

A brief, strangled sound escaped Chris as he lost his battle with control. Zach turned in alarm, but saw the smile on Chris’ face just before he had an armful of boyfriend — _husband_ — holding him tightly.

“Give us a minute,” he requested softly, wrapping his arms around Chris’ back and watching as Helen ushered everyone else out of the room and offered a small smile before leaving herself.

“Hey,” Zach whispered, squeezing Chris more tightly. “Did I… Should I have waited? Did you not want--”

“No! It’s perfect.” Chris pulled back and framed Zach face with his hands, kissing him soundly. “The best wedding present you could have possibly gotten me. It’s just a surprise and more than I expected… I know we’ve talked about it, but seeing my name with his… It just floored me. And now… God now I’m going to be all blotchy for the pictures,” he added, laughing and wiping his cheek with his palm. “It’s perfect, Zach,” he reassured. “I was just already feeling pretty happy, and this… I’m overflowing. Literally.” He wiped his eyes again.

Zach handed him a handkerchief from his pocket. Then he threaded their left hands together, looking at their wedding bands as Chris tried to compose himself.

“We’ll wait to take pictures until you aren’t blotchy or leaking,” he assured.

Chris snorted a laugh.

“A little Prosecco to relax you and you’ll be fine. Better, even. You’re eyes will look extra blue from crying.”

“Shut up,” Chris laughed, bumping Zach’s shoulder. It had worked, though. Chris was calmer and already less red than he had been.

“Fine,” Chris finally said after another moment. “Let’s go get some Prosecco. If you can’t be blotchy in front of friends and family, who can you be blotchy around?”

“Well exactly. And I’m sure I heard Zoe let out a sob at an inopportune moment. It’s not like you’re the only one.”

“She wears it better,” he groused.

“Nonsense. And no dissing my husband.”

Helen approached a minute later with a tray holding a wet cloth, two glasses of water, and some appetizers.

“Once you’re in there, you probably won’t get a chance to eat. Best have a few bites before you start celebrating,” she said, and Zach was _again_ grateful for her professional and compassionate hand guiding them through not just the wedding planning, but the whole day. They might have made it without her, but it would have been a lot more daunting.

Besides, feeding Chris was almost always a good idea, especially when he was emotional. Given how anxious they’d both been this morning, neither of them had much breakfast. By the time the plate was clear, Chris looked calm and composed and barely blotchy: ready for what was next. Zach linked their hands and led Chris into the other room, greeting their guests again, joining in toasts to their future, and generally fielding all the “I can’t believe you planned all this in a week” comments and jokes about fitting such a solemn occasion between filming and press junkets. But everyone was happy for them, and the joy was contagious, passing from them to their friends and back again. The string quartet was still playing in the corner, but the music was now lively, even with some jazz interspersed through the normal chamber music pieces.

When they’d made all the rounds once, Helen pulled them aside again for the pictures. They took portraits with the whole family — their folks, Joe, Katie, Nathan — in the Palm Hall where they’d been married, but then Joe led them through different parts of the conservatory that he’d scouted for portraits of just the two of them. The light was changing quickly, and Chris seemed to agree with Joe’s urgency run from site to site before they lost the natural light. They ended in the Fern Room, and as Joe got them in position, Zach heard Chris gasp.

“Look!” he said, pointing to the ceiling, where snow could be seen falling beyond the white metalwork and glass panes.

“Just in time for the photos,” Zach said. “Just what you wanted.”

Joe turned them, changing his angle so that he could capture them kissing under green fern fronds and white flurries. That was followed by a series of them laughing, standing back to front, left hands entwined with their wedding bands in full view. Those portraits ended up being their favorites of the entire shoot.

As they returned to their guests, the fading natural light was abruptly supplemented by thousands of fairy lights dripping from the trees and ceiling. There were gasps, followed by applause, and when everyone noticed Chris and Zach entering the room, hooting and whistling. And the party really got going.

They cut the cake, managing to smear each others’ lips despite the modest amount of frosting, and then kissed it off to more applause. It was a delicious as Zach had imagined, especially when warmed by Chris’ skin. Then the toasts and stories began, first from Joe and Katie and Bob, but then everyone got involved, with Zoe and John telling stories about watching the two of them on set and just _knowing_ there was something there, and Patrick telling stories of their early friendship and allusions to Grimy Corps and other things Zach really didn’t need their moms knowing about.

But perhaps the most emotional was Margo, talking of her surprise when she reached the hospital to meet Nathan, watching the two of them together, not just caring for Nathan, but each other, and something Chris had apparently told her in passing that Zach had never heard: It's funny how sometimes the best things in our lives are the ones we didn't know we wanted. And now it seemed they both had everything they could possibly want.

Zach turned and saw tears forming in Chris’ eyes. God, he loved the man. He wrapped his arm around Chris’ shoulders and kissed his temple.

“Okay, no more making my husband cry,” he said, and Chris wasn’t the only one in the room laughing through tears.

The string quartet broke into a rendition of “[Fly Me to the Moon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_HlghebuOs)”, and their guests made a circle around them as they tried very inelegantly to dance, both too used to leading to make for a smooth sail across the impromptu dancefloor. But it was still perfect, and even moreso when everyone joined them, his mom dipping Nathan almost upsidedown to peals of giggles. Joe was circling, taking pictures of everyone, and then finally pushing the camera to his back and twirling Nicole onto the dancefloor.

Zach wasn’t sure how long they danced and talked, but finally the kids were turning into pumpkins, and Zach suddenly realized he had talked to everyone he’d wanted to talk to, been hugged by everyone he loved, and all he wanted now was quiet and Chris. He looked across the room, where Chris was talking with his dad with occasional glances back to him, his expression tired, but smiling. Chris was ready too, from the looks of it. Then he threw his head back in laughter, and Zach was struck again by how good Chris looked in his suit. He remembered how he had threatened to take it off that morning… it felt like a million years ago.

“Ready to make an exit?” Helen was at his elbow, predicting his needs again.

“How did you know?”

“I’ve done this many times before, and recognize that look. Things are winding down naturally. Why don’t I get you a mic so you can thank everyone for coming and give them permission to leave?”

Zach collected Chris so they could both thank their guests for coming so far on such ridiculous short notice, and then they were hugging people goodbye and making a break for the side door, where Barbara was waiting with their coats and umbrella. Helen approached again, this time holding a basket.

“The car outside will take you gentlemen wherever you’re going next. And I packed you a picnic, because I noticed that neither of you ate much. It’s just an assortment appetizers and fresh fruit, plus another piece of cake.”

“Helen, you are an absolute godsend,” Chris said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Seriously. This would not have come together so wonderfully without your help. We can’t thank you enough,” Zach added.

“All in the job description. Now, off you go before you get waylaid again.”

They settled into the back of the car, Zach threading fingers through Chris’ and leaning into the headrest, closing his eyes. Fragments of the day blurred across the insides of his eyelids: the smiles of friends, the sound of Nathan’s giggles, the scent of flowers and new snow, but mostly Chris. The blue of his eyes as he said “I do,” the warmth of his hand, the joy in his voice as they greeted their family. The way he looked relaxed and confident and at home next Zach all evening. The way he’d sneak touches along along the sensitive skin of Zach’s palm or wrist like little promises of intimacy to come. Zach scooted closer, leaning his head against Chris’ shoulder as the car pulled away, and in the mist of memories Zach abruptly realized he had no idea where they were going.

“You did make a reservation somewhere, right?” he murmured, opening his eyes.

Chris just chuckled and squeezed his hand and gave the driver an address.

* * *

Thanks for reading.  Here's the [mood board](http://ato-the-bean.tumblr.com/post/156042517705/chapter-8-mood-board) for this chapter. 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the beginning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Punk and Ducky for the numerous chats, hand holding, and beta work, and to all the readers who have shown patience and support as I struggled for *6 months* to get this chapter out. Apologies, but real life and other distractions... Since you probably haven't read this since December, allow me to remind you that the boys just left the ceremony in the back of a car...

The car wove through trees and parks toward the high-rises of downtown Pittsburgh. Zach had been so focused on the ceremony, he honestly had no idea what came next. A few days alone with Chris holed up in a hotel, followed by a few days back at his mom’s. Then he was back to LA and Chris was off to do press for _Hours_ and then he had to clear his schedule and pack for the cottage in Cornwall. And that was exciting, but the idea of flying transcontinental on his own with Nathan was a little terrifying. He’d have to call—

“You’re thinking too loud,” Chris said, dropping a kiss on his head.

“I just feel like I’m forgetting something. I haven’t really thought through what happens next, and — oh shit. Our bag. We forgot our clothes.”

“Relax. The room’s actually in Dad’s name. We checked in and dropped everything off on the way in this morning. I’ve got the key cards. We don’t have to worry about the front desk or being recognized.”

Zach sat up, surprised.

“I had a few things to set up. And it was basically on the way. It didn’t make me late for the ceremony,” Chris added.

“What did you have to set up?” Zach asked as the car pulled into a semi-circular drive of a very familiar hotel. “You got us a room _here_?”

Chris just squeezed his hand and moved to get out of the car, thanking their driver. Zach collected the picnic basket and followed, letting Chris lead him through the doors to the elevator, and then up to the twenty-second floor, and down the hall to a very familiar door.

Chris let them in, and Zach felt a little like he was coming home.

It was the same suite they’d shared the first two weeks of Nathan’s life, but instead of the common room being covered in bottles and baby gear and books on what to expect in the first year, every horizontal surface held a collection of vases of flowers like those from their wedding. In the middle of the room, on the round glass dining table that they had _never_ eaten at when they were here with Nathan, sat a silver bucket full of ice, a bottle of prosecco already chilling.

“I can’t believe you got this suite,” Zach whispered, touching the back of the familiar sofa. Memories were flooding his mind so quickly he could hardly sort them. It had been a difficult, stressful, happy, wonderful, period of his life, surreal in a way. The beginning of his new life with Chris, but before it had _really_ started. Before — “You aren’t going to make me sleep in my own room, are you?”

Chris chuckled and wrapped his arms around Zach’s waist from behind. “Not a chance. Well, you will be sleeping in your old bed, but I have no intention of sleeping in mine. Do you remember that night? When I sang you both to sleep?”

_Of course_ Zach remembered. It had been the stuff of fantasies for weeks afterward. What would have happened if Zach had reached out as he felt Chris leave? Slid his hand under Chris’ t-shirt. Would the mood have shifted? Was Chris aware even then of how Zach had felt? It had been too early — Zach still overwhelmed and in shock and licking his wounds over the breakup — but that hadn’t stopped the fantasies. In the moment, he’d practically had to lace his fingers together to prevent himself from reaching out, afraid of what would happen if Chris had rejected his touch, and _even more_ of what would have happened if he’d welcomed it. In the moment, he’d been full of doubt, not trusting his own mind, but still wanting Chris there with him. And later, he’d never told Chris how he’d scooted over to the other side of the bed when Chris had left it, soaking in the warmth Chris had left in the sheets. He’d certainly never mentioned how in the weeks that followed, as the sexual tension between he and Chris seemed to ratchet up in the LA house, Zach would think back to that moment, imagine Chris returning to the bed...

The idea of taking Chris to that bed and taking him apart slowly was _enormously_ appealing.

“I remember.” Zach’s voice was thick.

Chris rested his chin on Zach’s shoulder as they both studied the room. It looked the same, really. They had so many pictures of this space. Well, not _of_ it. But in it. These walls and furniture and windows as the backdrop of early pictures of Nathan as they fed him, or read to him, or walked in circles trying to soothe him. The suite had taken on an almost mythic quality in Zach’s mind. A place of beginnings and time out of time. Definitely not a place he ever expected to see again.

Then again, a honeymoon is meant to be a beginning. And time out of time. There was something satisfying in transforming this space — where closed-quarters and constant companionship had stirred longings he’d suppressed for years — into a space where those longings and more were all satisfied. Make the place where their life together had started unofficially into the place where it started officially. And give truth to all those fantasies. The exhaustion Zach had felt as they left the ceremony faded with the thoughts of all he wanted to do to Chris in this suite...

That’s when he saw it: a guitar, leaning in the corner of the room, out of place among the flowers and wine.

“You _are_ going to sing to me.”

Chris didn’t say anything, and Zach turned in his arms and caught him blushing.

“I… I’d been working on something in the UK, learning this song between shots when I wasn’t reading about the ceremony. I thought about trying to sing it to you during the reception. But it felt wrong, and I sort of chickened out. It’s too intimate to sing with everyone else around. It’s just for you. And then I remembered singing to you here, and asked Katie to bring my guitar out from LA, and...” He shrugged, hesitant.

Zach bit his lip. As tempted as he was to just start peeling Chris out of this suit, the idea of Chris spending weeks on a song for him was… pretty much the most romantic thing he’d heard in a while. And considering the week they’d just had, that was saying something.

“Can I hear it?”

“Mmmm. Definitely. But not right now. We have a few days, and we’re both tired.”

“I’m tired of _people_. I don’t really feel that tired now that we’re here and I have you all to myself.” He cupped Chris’ face and kissed him gently, teasing his lower lip until Chris pulled him closer and took some control. It was surprisingly languid. When Zach had fantasized about their wedding night, he’d imagined frantically stripping Chris out of the suit and pressing him against a wall. On the drive over, his mood had definitely leaned more towards flopping down into bed without undressing and sleeping for about 12 hours. But now that he was here, now that he’d seen what Chris had arranged, he was happy to take things slowly and luxuriate in a familiar place where they wouldn’t be interrupted by a toddler or mother or cell phone.

“Tell you what… why don’t we get a _little_ more comfortable,” he said, leaning in so that his next words were pressed into the corner of Chris’ mouth. “And I can open the prosecco and unpack the picnic. We’ll feed you up a bit — for stamina.”

Chris smiled into the kiss. “Well, I had an idea to help with that tension you’re still carrying in your shoulders — don’t deny it — so maybe we can combine plans… take the prosecco and finger food into the master bath, where a very large jacuzzi tub awaits.”

Zach had _forgotten_ about the jacuzzi tub. He’d been lucky to grab 5-minute showers the last time they’d been here. That sounded like a _fantastic_ idea. Still…

“Tension in my shoulders?” he whispered against Chris’ lips. “Is that your excuse for getting me naked in a hot tub?”

Chris huffed a laugh and pulled Zach forward by his belt, sending a thrill up Zach’s spine. “Pretty sure I don’t need an excuse. But I’m glad that the part of me that wants to take care of you and the part of me that wants to _take care of you_ will both be satisfied.”

“That was terrible,” Zach whispered, bringing his hands to either side of Chris’ face to kiss him in earnest. He took his time, feeling Chris sigh and melt into the kiss, Chris’ arms slowly wrapping around his waist under the suit jacket. He trailed his own hands along the fine fabric of Chris’ jacket. As beautifully tailored as it was, it suddenly felt very much in the way. After one more kiss, Zach placed his hands on Chris’ shoulders and pushed him away, holding him at arm's length.

Chris opened his eyes and blinked a few times before asking, “Everything okay?”

“Hmmm.” Zach ran his hands over the silk vest that accentuated the shape of Chris’ chest and waist, admiring the form while memorizing the texture. “Just wanted one last look at you in this suit before I started removing it.” He slipped the tie out from where it was tucked in the vest and loosened the knot as Chris smiled. He pulled it from the collar and tossed it over the back of the sofa, moving forward to kiss Chris again and start working on the buttons of the vest, feeling Chris’ fingers find his tie and work it loose. It was such a luxury to undress Chris in the middle of a room, with no fear at all that they’d be walked in on or otherwise interrupted. Chris’ fingers were familiar, but it still felt like ages since they’d had something quite like this. And never before had he been undressed by his _husband._ Their breath came hot and quick as he slipped the jacket and vest off Chris’ shoulders, finally feeling the defined muscles in Chris’ arms. He dropped both over the back of sofa, fingers continuing to explore the muscles under Chris’ shirt. Then Chris was breaking the kiss to pull his jacket from him, and they were both down to their shirt and slacks, toeing off their shoes, enough distance between them that Zach could ignore that he was half hard and already breathing heavily. He brushed fingers along Chris’ abdomen, dipping low enough to graze the tip of his erection through his slacks, and then pulled away, smirking, to find the champagne flutes in the kitchenette.

“Tease!” Chris called to his back.

“Only if I don’t put out. I’d say your chances are good tonight, and that was before you promised me a hot tub and serenade.”

Chris was suddenly behind him, hands slipping around his waist to stop his progress, breath in his ear.

“Cold champagne and a hot bath...get the food ready and meet me in there? I’ll get things ready.” For a brief moment their bodies were flush, back to front, and Zach could feel that Chris was more than half hard, sending a shiver of anticipation up his spine as that close heat was abruptly gone. He turned to see Chris peeling off his shirt as he walked away. Without the jacket Zach could appreciate what those slacks did for Chris’ ass.

_Fuck._ Music could definitely wait.

By the time he’d reheated the appetizers and arranged everything onto a tray with the Prosecco and flutes, he could hear water flowing in the bathroom. He barely remembered the huge tub from last time they were here but as he walked into the bathroom and saw candlelight refracted in billowing steam, he was really glad it was there.

“Let me help you,” Chris said, moving forward to rescue the flutes and champagne bucket from their tenuous balance on the tray. “Set that down in the corner, here,” he said, motioning to a tile covered platform next to the bath.

God, it was bigger than he remembered — rectangular and deep with small seating platforms at each end, the water already over the level of the jets, which were bubbling on low. The warm scent of sandalwood and spice emanated from the candles Chris had lit and placed on the small glass shelves lining the walls. The only other light came from within the shower alcove and the screen of Chris’ phone in the speaker mount, softly playing a familiar playlist. Zach could practically feel the stress of the last several months fade away.

“This is perfect. How on earth did you manage this?”

“Well,” Chris said, moving forward to unbutton Zach’s shirt. “You said I could take care of the hotel, and Helen and I were coming back from meeting a florist and drove past, and I asked her to stop. I met with the manager and told him our story, and of course this suite was booked, but I paid to upgrade the people who had it — ironically to the honeymoon suite — so we could have this one. They let me tour it to make sure it was the right one, and that’s when I realized this bathroom was actually pretty great… better than I’d remembered. And then I just did a bit of shopping and made some arrangements with the florist and management to get everything in here… it wasn’t that hard.” He pushed Zach’s shirt off his shoulders and went for his belt. “I figured it’d be a nice way to start the evening.”

Zach pulled him in for a kiss, the humid air warming their skin as they undressed each other, fingers tracing along bare skin as it was revealed, enjoying the feeling, but not with any real intent. They both seemed determined to luxuriate. Chris had created a feast for the senses — at least scent and touch and sound and sight. Taste was waiting in the food that Zach had carried in and the sheen of salty sweat Zach wanted to lick from Chris’ shoulder. Before he could, Chris tugged him toward the tub, hissing slightly as the hot water covered his groin and then relaxing back against one of the jets. Zach followed, groaning as he felt the heat sink into his skin. Chris had been right; his shoulders _were_ tense. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, shifting slightly to get a jet positioned between his shoulder blades and tangling his legs with Chris’. He felt Chris’ legs shift as he stretched, and then something icy cold touched his hand. He smiled, taking the glass of Prosecco, opening his eyes as he felt Chris lean back.

“How many times have we actually done this?” Chris asked, reaching back to turn off the water.

Zach hadn’t realized how loud the rushing water had been until the sound was gone. The air almost shifted as the prevalent sounds became the much softer hum of the jets and atmospheric groove of the music.

“Done what? Relaxed?”

“No.” Chris took a sip, thinking. “Just, our entire friendship, before we got together, I always thought of you as this really sensual guy.”

“Hedonistic, you mean.”

Chris laughed. “No. I wasn’t going to say that. Just… enjoyed your senses. I mean, we’ve had great meals together, and great sex, and I know I can get pretty tactile at times—”

“You?”

Chris kicked at him, and Zach caught at his foot under the water with a laugh and held it, stroking Chris’ ankle with his thumb. Chris’ eyes fluttered closed as he relaxed against the tub again. “Hmmm. But we don’t seem to do this very often.”

Zach knew what he meant. “We’re dads,” he said simply. “With careers. We’re lucky if we stay awake through a movie on the sofa after Nathan’s gone to bed. And, in our defense, we do an almost embarrassing amount of snuggling on those nights.” And it didn’t always stay innocent. Zach thought back to a particular night when the mood shifted unexpectedly during a movie and Chris was suddenly needy and responsive and deliciously demanding, asking Zach to take him for the first time. A shiver ran through Zach. That had been ages ago: before they’d learned each other's bodies. Before they’d gotten so bogged down in work they’d forgotten to enjoy them.

“We _are_ dads. And that’s important. And so is the work, for as long as we can keep at it. But this is important, too. I don’t want to forget about this anymore,” he said, running a hand along Zach’s calf. “Even after the next three days are over.”

Zach took a long sip of Prosecco, enjoying the icy cold tingling on his tongue juxtaposed with the warmth of the water and the heat in Chris gaze as it followed the movement of his glass. He moved across the tub, practically straddling Chris as he set his glass down on the platform behind his head. Then he dried off his hand on a napkin and picked up one of the Gruyère cheese puffs and held it in front of Chris’ lips.

“We won’t,” Zach whispered. “Now try this. I don’t think you got any at the reception. Consider it part of a sensual experience.”

“And good for stamina?” Chris asked with a glint in his eye.

Zach smiled and placed in on his tongue. The resulting moan went straight to his cock.

“Oh my god, those are good!”

Zach just laughed. “Try this one.”

Zach spent the next several minutes feeding Chris — and taking the occasional bite himself — until Chris waved off the next attempt and took a sip of his Prosecco. “I’m done, I think. Don’t want to get too full.”

Zach laughed at the suggestive glint in his eyes.

“Now, it’s your turn,” Chris said, leaning forward.

“I’ve been eating the whole time.”

“Not that. Turn around. I’m going to try to loosen that knot in your shoulders.”

Zach almost protested that he wasn’t tense anymore, but as soon as Chris’ hand grasped his shoulder, he felt the twinge. He allowed himself to be turned and leaned against the edge of the tub, resting his head against his folded arms as Chris slipped up behind him.

The warm water and steamy air and Chris’ strong hands soon had him melting, shifting closer to the wall of the tub as Chris pushed between his shoulder blades. He braced himself against the pressure, spreading his knees, and realized with a bit-back moan that he was centered on one of the jets. This massage had just moved out of the realm of sensual and squarely into the erotic. He hardened quickly, barely stifling his moans, and Chris continued to knead his shoulders, unaware. Giving into hedonistic tendencies, Zach just let the sensations wash over him: Chris’ large, strong hands, the feel of his body mere inches behind Zach’s, the teasing touch of the jet against his cock, all creating an enticing coil deep in his belly. His breathing grew rough as his tension grew, delicious and deep and unfurling. He savored it, clinging to it as he hadn’t in months, in—

“You’re not relaxing,” came the hot breath against his ear.

He huffed a laugh, caught out.

“No,” he agreed, “I’m not. But it’s nothing against your excellent technique. Here, let me show you.” He turned and led a confused Chris to his place, switching to settle behind him. “Spread your legs and lean against the wall,” he said, sliding his hands over Chris’ shoulders. He knew the exact moment Chris felt the stream of water against his cock. He leaned in, his own hard cock pressing against Chris’ ass. “See? Very pleasant, but not particularly relaxing.”

“Oh, god,” Chris moaned, settling closer to the wall. Zach was tempted to reach around and feel for himself how Chris was affected, but he didn’t want to interfere with the sensation. He settled his hands on Chris’ hips instead, holding him steady, fingertips sensing the subtle reactions of Chris’ abdominal muscles to the teasing jets. As Chris’ breathing grew heavier, Zach couldn’t help himself. He dragged his lips against the curve of Chris’ neck, feeling his pulse jump.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he whispered. “Feels good.”

“Yeah. Fuck. I didn’t realize. Have you ever… I mean—”

“No, this is your discovery, as far as I’m concerned. Fairly ingenious,” he whispered, pressing his cock more firmly against the cleft of Chris’ ass again before pulling back. “Now, let’s make sure you get the full effect,” he added, massaging Chris’ back in earnest, working his way from the shoulders along the muscles bordering his spine. Chris carried tension lower than Zach did: not in his shoulders and neck but in his mid and lower back. Sure enough, Chris grunted in pleasure as Zach’s hands dipped below the water, fingers wrapping around his ribs as Zach pressed the heels of his palms against the muscles on either side of his spine.

Chris dropped his forehead against his forearms as Zach worked. “Lower,” he murmured.

Zach moved further down his back, unsurprised that Chris was carrying the tension of the day as much as he’d been. Chris was arching into Zach’s touch, his head lolling against his arms, making Zach smile at his obvious enjoyment. A few moments later Chris repeated, “Lower.”

Zach pressed a trail along Chris’ spine to the small of his back, fingers finding the dimples above his ass as Chris groaned in pleasure. The muscles of Chris’ back bunched and flexed under Zach’s touch, more visible than usual, as was the line from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist.

The swell of his ass, though, was as plush as ever, even with his recent weight loss. Zach’s hands dutifully worked at loosening Chris’ lower back muscles, even as his eyes drifted down to that tempting curve...

“Lower,” Chris whispered.

_Fuck, yes._

Zach dragged his fingers down, one hand finally palming a plush cheek while the other grazed its way down the cleft, over the pucker of Chris’ opening.

Chris groaned and arched, obviously torn between wanting his cock near the jet of water and his ass near Zach’s hands. Zach teased his opening as he watched Chris pant and writhe, gorgeous and wanton and sexy and _his_. Zach wanted him. Now. But the lube he’d packed was probably still in the bag somewhere in the bedroom, and it wasn’t made for use in water anyway.

Chris reached under the stack of towels and pulled out a tube, then handed it back to Zach like he’d read his mind. Zach glanced at the label and silently thanked the universe for Chris’ _excellent_ planning.

“Yeah, baby? That what you want?” he asked, opening the tube and spreading the viscous substance on his fingers as Chris whimpered and nodded, raising his ass half out of the water in anticipation. “Shhh. I’ve got you,” Zach whispered, slicked fingers teasing at Chris’ hole again. He pushed in, watching his finger disappear into Chris’ body, biting his lip and forcing himself to go slowly. They had days ahead of them. All the time in the world to luxuriate. It was hard to remember, though, as Chris pushed back against his hand, already making the most delicious noises. He added another finger and leaned forward, kissing Chris’ shoulder. “You’re so gorgeous,” he murmured as he worked Chris open. “So _fucking_ gorgeous.”

“Zach,” he groaned, already seemingly incapable of complete sentences.

“Nearly there, baby.” Zach added more lube and another finger, his own cock now painfully hard. Sex with Chris was always great, but their domestic reality meant it was rarely anything approaching kinky. But seeing Chris like this — lost in sensation and rutting against Zach’s hand while the jets bubbled and teased all around them — was _hot._ Suddenly impatient, Zach rose enough to get his cock out of the water and coated it with the thick lube as Chris whined at the loss of his fingers. Then his hands were on Chris’ hips and he was pushing in, slowly, both of them groaning. He watched their point of physical connection, watched himself disappear into Chris as he became surrounded by a new heat, tight and slick and fucking perfect. Familiar, yet newly intense, whether because this particular scenario was new and exciting, or because Chris was now his _husband_. He pressed in, Chris arching in welcome, until he was balls deep — as far into Chris as he could possibly be. They both stilled, breathing heavily as Chris adjusted for a moment. Then Chris shifted, pushing back to signal he was ready. But rather than thrusting, Zach pushed down, lowering Chris’ ass back into the water, back toward the wall where the jet could once again tease his cock. He felt it in Chris’ body when he found the right position.

“Hmm. Right there. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Jesus, Zach,” Chris panted. “It’s so... so _decadent_.”

“Hmmm.” Zach wouldn’t be happy until Chris could no longer find three-syllable words. He pulled out slowly and then thrust in, shifting angles until he felt Chris shudder. “There we go,” he said, thrusting again, sure this time that he was hitting Chris’ prostate. Chris whimpered and braced himself against the edge of the tub as Zach thrust harder, confident now that Chris was stimulated inside and out. And _Christ_ , this wasn’t going to take long. Zach could already feel his balls tightening. He gripped Chris’ hips harder, shifting him closer to the jet. Chris arched and gasped, so _fucking_ beautiful it took Zach’s breath away. The thought that this wanton, beautiful, sexy creature was the same man he was raising a child with… who could beat him in Scrabble and read _Pajama Time_ to their son...well, Zach considered himself a very lucky man.

“Zach, I’m close.”

_Fucking gorgeous._ “Don’t hold back, baby. Come for me.”

Time stretched as Zach’s pleasure mounted, a furious rhythm driving them both closer to the edge. He leaned forward, reaching his left hand to Chris’, threading their hands together so their wedding bands were touching. And then Chris arched, crying out, clenching around Zach’s cock. And that was it, _oh god_. He pushed in as deep as he could, buried his face in the curve of Chris’ neck, and came and came and came...

They stayed like that — Chris clinging to the tub’s edge and Zach clinging to Chris — for several long moments waiting for the world to become solid again. When Chris squeezed his hand, Zach pulled out slowly, soothing Chris’ wince with a kiss to his shoulder. Then Chris was in his arms, kissing him soundly between heavy breaths, threading his fingers through Zach’s hair and keeping Zach’s face close to his even as he gasped, “That was… was—”

“A very good start to a honeymoon,” Zach finished, swallowing Chris’ huff of a laugh. “Let’s get rinsed and out of here before we completely overheat.”

They both moved carefully, switching off the jets and draining the tub, moving to the shower, never quite letting each other move out of reach. They washed each other gently, kissing languidly all the while. When they were finally clean and dry, a bone deep satisfaction making them both a little lazy, Chris blew out the candles and retreated to the bedroom while Zach retrieved their clothes from the pile on the floor and draped them across a chair, grabbing his phone from a pocket. He took the leftover food into the kitchenette, walking through the suite naked because he _could._ When Zach returned to the bedroom he was confronted with a sight that stopped him in his tracks: Chris, sitting naked and cross-legged on the bed, tuning his guitar. Before he could look up, Zach had his phone out and was snapping a picture.

“That is _not_ going on Instagram.” Chris warned.

“Nope. This is just for me,” Zach said, taking one more with Chris eying him with the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen, even on Chris. The damned iPhone would never capture it. Maybe he’d convince Chris to let him bring the fancy SLR camera to bed later if he promised to abide Chris’ typical nudity clause. “Anyway, I don’t think I want anyone else seeing you like this.”

Chris looked down at himself, noticing all the places the guitar covered, and snorted. “Pretty sure they’ve seen more of me than this on the big screen. Multiple times.”

“True. That parachute scene _was_ a classic. And way more revealing than my “Bleary, Hairy Man in Bed” Instagram series. But I was thinking more of… I don’t know. You sitting naked on the bed, all damp still from the shower, holding your guitar...it’s somehow more revealing than your hairless balls sliding down a windshield.”

Chris shook his head with a laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m not in character at present. And you know… the things we do for quirky little films. Anyway, I really don’t _mind_ your Instagram fetish. I just prefer not to have my face in those things. And I prefer it PG.”

“I’m well aware,” Zach said, sitting on the bed cross-legged facing Chris. “So, what have you been practicing?”

Chris bit his lip, suddenly shy, which made Zach laugh out loud, considering what they’d just been up to. “Is it sweet?” he asked.

“You’re an ass,” Chris said.

“Yeah, but I’m your ass,” he answered, waving his left hand to show off the ring. “Forever.”

Chris fiddled with the guitar, smile still teasing at his lips. He was fucking beautiful _._ And blushing. Which… if they hadn’t _just_ gotten off, Zach would gently remove the guitar from his hands and push him back into the mattress and take him apart again. But they had, and he just felt a bone-deep contentment and intimacy. He leaned forward and kissed Chris.

“What have you been practicing?” he whispered against Chris’ lips.

Chris seemed content to just kiss Zach back for a moment, and got lost enough that he seemed confused when Zach finally pulled away an inch and waited.

“Oh. Well, yeah. It’s sweet. Which is good, because I’d made myself all these playlists that made me think of you when I was away, but in hindsight they were all pretty depressing and not helping with the loneliness.”

“Let me guess. ‘Elbow’? Some other whiney British boys?”

Chris nodded. “ _Fugitive Motel,_ ” he admitted as Zach tutted. “Helped me get in touch with the angst I needed for some of my scenes toward the end of the film, but between shooting war scenes and holing up in a motel room focusing on my solitude, it wasn’t super great for my sleep. Or, well, much of anything else. So, around the time I bought the books for the ceremony, I started hitting up the cast and crew for new music, and ironically enough, one of them had all the albums from this artist who lives in L.A.”

“And she writes happy things?”

“ _He_ writes...well, a lot of angst and anger too, but also _this_ , which seemed to sum up everything I was feeling as I started thinking about the ceremony. When I was sitting alone on my room thinking about spending the rest of my life climbing into bed with you and waking up with you, and how great would be.”

Zach couldn’t tease about that. He reached out and set a hand on Chris’ knee, needing the connection as Chris started strumming an unfamiliar melody.

“It’s called _Honey Moon_ ,” Chris said, clearing his throat as he repeated the intro, finally closing his eyes and starting to sing.

_“Honey Moon now you are mine_

_For the rest of our lives…”_

The song was quiet and intimate, its message sweet and simple without resorting to the clichés or fraught romanticism that most love songs — particularly _wedding_ songs — seemed to thrive on. Chris’ voice grew stronger as the lyrics unfolded. It felt like another set of vows… ones not meant to be witnessed by family. _Honey Moon stay here tonight, and for the rest of our lives. Put your head on my chest, you’re the best._

Zach’s eyes were starting to swim just as Chris opened his, singing the last lines. Zach couldn’t speak, breath catching as the last guitar note faded in the air. Chris bit his lip and offered a small shrug, and Zach was undone. Sniffing in a decidedly unromantic way, he placed his hands on either side of Chris’ face and kissed him soundly. He was definitely not crying. Not even close. Kissing just seemed like a much better idea than talking, right now.

Chris grunted “guitar” as Zach surged forward. And, yeah. It was definitely in the way. Zach took it by the neck leaned over the edge of the bed to deposit it in its case, shoving it under the bed before pushing Chris onto his back and kissing him again, hovering over his body, wishing to _god_ the tub-sex-fest had happened hours ago because he _wanted_ Chris so much again — wanted Chris inside him and over him and _god_ it just wasn’t going to happen right now.

Slowly, the surge of raw emotions settled into something warm and familiar. Chris’ arms loosened as Zach pulled back slightly. Chris’ smile was incandescent as he fingered Zach’s hair, pushing the bangs up only to have them fall back into his face.

“Hopeless,” Chris said with an amused huff, trying to smooth it back again. Zach kissed him and moved to lay on his side, pulling Chris forward to mirror him as he leaned on an elbow.

“So,” Chris said, stroking Zach’s waist with his thumb. “I’m getting the impression you liked it.”

“Astute,” Zach whispered, pulling him forward for another kiss. On the one hand, nothing much had changed. They had shared a life and a bed for nearly two years. A party and a piece of paper didn’t really change that, but this still felt different. Profound. Zach could feel the metal of Chris’ ring where his hand stroked along his back. He could feel the weight of his own band, new and strange and wonderful. And words mattered; he and Chris had always cared about words. And there had been so many words today — their vows, that song — forming a steadying weight in his mind that matched the weight on his finger. “It was perfect,” he whispered, running his hand over Chris’ cheek. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. And I'm glad. I was afraid you might find it too sentimental.”

“Just the right amount of sentiment,” Zach countered. “Made better by the delivery. I think from now on, you’re only allowed to serenade me in the nude.”

“Oh yeah?” Chris’ eyes crinkled in the corner.

“Hmmm. Fortunately, I have no intention of letting you dress over the next three days, so you’ll still have plenty of opportunity.”

Chris laughed and leaned in to kiss him. “Well, I’m sure housekeeping won’t have a problem with that as long as I’m holding the guitar in front of me.”

Zach considered for a moment. “Okay, maybe I’ll let you dress briefly. Silver lining — I’ll get to undress you again.”

“That’s the spirit,” Chris whispered, closing his eyes and stretching his neck.

“Tired, baby?” Zach asked, brushing his fingers along Chris’ temple.

“Yeah. That was the last thing I was nervous about, and now I'm feeling the drop: exhausted and nicely fucked out and warm. I can rally, though, if you have other plans for tonight.”

“Oh, I have plans,” Zach said, wagging his eyebrows and making Chris laugh. “But we have three glorious days alone and no need to rush. So long as you’re feeling well fucked and well cared for, my plans can wait for morning.”

“I’ll have more energy tomorrow,” Chris admitted through a yawn.

“I look forward to it,” Zach answered softly, giving him one more lingering kiss and then rolling onto his back to get comfortable. Chris fluffed his pillow and curled into Zach’s side, resting his left hand over Zach’s heart. Zach threaded his fingers through Chris’, their rings clicking against each other and making Zach smile as he closed his eyes.

“Love you,” Chris whispered into his shoulder.

“Love you too, baby. Now and always.” To be honest, he’d never felt so sure of anything in his life.

He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come, feeling Chris’ body relax and his breathing even out, even as their hands remained stubbornly entwined on Zach’s chest. His body felt sated and heavy, but his mind wouldn’t let go of the day, remembering details of friends’ laughter, Nathan’s dancing, the pride in his mother’s eyes as she watched. Joe subtly directing people into groups so he could get the photographic composition he wanted. Helen’s quiet efficiency keeping the space on lockdown so their private ceremony would remain private.

Huh. Had the news hit the internet yet? Zach had told Marco that once the ceremony was over, he could post pictures of the cake and embark on his “bragging rights,” but had that been tonight? Tomorrow? Would the caterer and others be allowed to post info now that it was over? Helen had handled those details. They’d just insisted that the vendors couldn’t post any pictures of them or their guests without express permission for specific photos.

He suddenly felt the need to get out ahead of all that, to be the first to announce his marriage, now that it wouldn’t impact their enjoyment of the ceremony. He reached his free hand out to the nightstand, careful not to disturb Chris’ sleep to his left as he grabbed his phone and swiped to the camera app. Cognizant of the angle and Chris’ rules, he made sure to include only his own bare chest and their entwined hands, wedding bands reflecting the light of the flash.

Smiling, he posted it to Instagram with a caption of the date and a single word,

Cleaving.

 

 

* * *

[Honey Moon, by David Poe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aWg-qTXCs7w)

Honey moon now you are mine

For the rest of our lives

In this world and the next

You're the best, you're the best

Everyone else fails

Everyone else pales

 

Honey moon wake up with you

When the party is through

Make me forget all the rest

You're the best, you're the best

Everyone else fails

Everyone else pales

 

Youth will fade

Let our love remain

And we'll be one

When the day is done

Because I believe in you

I believe

And I will be with you

And never leave

 

Honey moon stay here tonight

And for the rest of our lives

Put your head on my chest

You're the best, you're the best

You're the best, you're the best

Everyone else fails

Everyone else pales

Everyone else fails

Everyone else pales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end, except for a brief epilogue. And I'm feeling pretty confident that this will be the last Bleary story, though I've certainly said that before. Thanks to everyone who has read this series over the years. Your comments and chats on tumblr have been so fantastic...I feel very fortunate. Oh, and do follow the link and listen to the song. It's pretty great and the artist is the nicest guy. <3 ato


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few years later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, remember that "short epilogue" I promised at the end of chapter 9? Whelp, it grew into 10k words. And Punk kept threatening that it was actually be beginning chapter of a whole new story, but I did (finally) manage to actually wrap it up. Thanks to both Punk and Ducky for all the hand holding through the entire series. And to Punk especially for helping with this chapter when I'd written myself into a corner. These two fabulous betas helped the story tremendously, and kept me sane. They are seriously the best. As always, any remaining mistakes are my own, because I can't stop messing with things.
> 
> And many thanks to all the readers who have read and commented on the Bleary!verse over the years. You've been so supportive, and I appreciate every comment so much. This story would not have continued without your enthusiasm. As much as I will miss these Bleary boys, I'm ready to set them down. I only hope you'll all approve of where I've left them.

“Daddy!”

Zach looked up from the script he was marking to see Chris approaching, carrying a squirmy Nathan who was squiggling like a fish to get down.

“Well if it isn’t my two favorite boys!” Zach said, waving to them from the edge of the set. He turned to Tobias, the assistant director who was giving him the shoot sequence for next week. “Anything else?”

“Nope.” Tobias closed his script and retreated, saying, “Have a good weekend, Zach,” just as Nathan plowed into his legs.

“Hey, Little Man,” Zach said, bending down to scoop Nathan up. “How long have you guys been here? We ran a little late.”

“Not long,” Chris said, placing a hand on Zach’s waist and giving him a quick kiss. “But we caught the last scene. It’s looking good. I didn’t think you were filming the argument until next week.”

“We’re ahead of schedule. My scenes really clicked today,” he said, grinning at Chris because it felt _so good_ to be acting again...Snowden had gone well, but the role was small. _This_ was something Zach could really sink his teeth into. And Chris seemed happy being a stay-at-home dad between his own projects. They were each doing one or two projects a year, traveling with each other as necessary to keep the family together. Thankfully, Zach’s current project was filming primarily in LA, and they were enjoying a few months of routine. “In fact, I’m getting Monday off because they’re shooting some scenes with just Emma. So I get a long weekend.”

“Were you sad, Daddy?” Nathan asked.

“Nope. My character was upset, but I’m happy. I was just pretending for the camera.”

“‘Quiet on the set’,” Nathan mimicked, putting his finger over his lips.

Zach grinned and put his arm around Chris. “Did you have to be quiet in the sound stage?” he asked Nathan, starting toward his dressing room.

“We were good, weren’t we, Babbo? No talking.”

“We were,” Chris agreed, shooting Zach an amused look.

“You’re a pro,” Zach said. “I’ll just get out of my costume and makeup, and then we can head out. Did you guys pick out a movie for tonight? Is the pizza dough made for Nathan’s Home Pizzaria? You didn’t get dough on the ceiling again, did you?” he asked, nuzzling Nathan’s neck and making him giggle.

“No pizza,” Nathan squealed, squirming away and hiding his neck.

“No pizza? Change of plans?” he asked, turning back toward Chris, whom he now saw was dressed a bit more formally than movie night would typically require.

“Yeah. Well, maybe,” he said, motioning to Zach’s dressing room.

Zach was immediately alert. If Chris wanted privacy for this conversation…

Once the door was closed behind them, he asked, “What’s up?” setting Nathan down so he could scamper over to the pile of children's books on the small sofa in the corner of the room.

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, if you’re up for it — not too tired — we should head over to Children’s Hospital.”

“Children’s Hos… what happened? Is Luca okay?”

“Fine. Everyone’s fine. Well, not _everyone_ , but I shouldn’t have led with that.” He took a deep breath and pulled out his phone. “I got a call this afternoon. From the County.”

Oh. _Oh._

But they weren’t even on the County’s list anymore. “They… they have a baby?”

“No,” Chris said, pulling up a picture on his phone. “Not a baby, but close. At least, closer than usual. She turned two a few months ago.”

Chris turned the phone toward Zach to show him a curly-haired toddler looking miserably up from a hospital bed. Her face was bruised, her right leg wrapped in a full hot pink cast, her right arm similarly wrapped from palm to above the elbow. But with all that, it was her eyes that captured his attention: large and brown and swollen from crying.

“What happened to her?” Zach asked quietly, zooming in on her face to see the extent of the bruising. God he hoped it wasn’t abuse…

“She was in a car accident that killed her two moms. She was in a carseat in the back, but the whole right side of the car was crushed. The arm was a simple break, but she’s had two surgeries on the leg… there are a couple of pins in there to hold the bone together while it heals. If we’re interested we can hear more from a doctor, but it sounds like she’s going to be okay… might need some physical therapy once the cast comes off, but they seem confident she’ll be able to walk. And Monica — that’s the case worker — says that her medical records otherwise are good. She’s even caught up on her immunizations. So...so she’ll be fine.” Chris’ voice trailed off.

“Other than the fact she saw her two moms die.”

“Yeah,” Chris said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Other than that. But before the accident it sounds like the family was tight and she was loved. In fact, there’s a catch...”

_Here it comes_ , Zach thought. He looked up at Chris, who was raising his eyebrows in apology.

“Okay…”

“She has a living relative: a grandmother who lives locally. She’s old, in her seventies or something. And she’s in assisted living, so she can’t care for Mira, but she wants to stay involved in her life, and apparently is helping the county screen families. We're among her top choices, actually. She was internet-savvy enough to go online and try to learn about adoption and what her rights as a grandmother might be, and found our profile on the Vista webpage. She’s Jewish, and her daughter — one of the moms — was sort of practicing. And our profile mentioned that we honored both traditions, despite not being very religious, and I guess between that and our proximity, we made her list. But there are a bunch of others, and the County doesn’t have to abide by her wishes if they think they’ve found a placement that’s in the child’s best interest. So if we aren’t interested, we should call Monica so she can move onto the next potential family.”

Zach studied the picture. He hated that these decisions were always rushed, but like with so many things in life, when an opportunity arose…

“And the other mom? What about her family?”

“According to the grandma, she’s an immigrant from South America and her family basically disowned her when she came out, so…” Chris shrugged.

“So, the catch is — open adoption and visits to grandma, but otherwise pretty safe...no family members that would sue to take her from us down the road?”

“We’d have to check it out more, but yeah, that’s what it sounds like. And I know the timing isn’t ideal — you’re still filming _Who are We_ and _Wrinkle_ still has some pick ups over the next month — but it could be worse. At least you’re not alternating weeks in Europe for _Snowden_ any more. Press for my projects has died down for the time being. If you get _Artemis…_ well, I guess we’ll just have to tell Grandma we might take Mira out of the country every so often to film locations. If that kills the deal, fine. But it seems worth looking at. And I know we were hoping for another baby, but we might _never_ get one. At least Nathan would still be a big brother… only by a year or two, but still.” Chris shrugged again.

“They’d go through school more or less together,” Zach agreed. That’d be a little strange. Well, not strange exactly, but not what he’d imagined. But a baby… they’d had that experience once, and in his opinion, Nathan just got more fun and interesting the older he got. Zach wouldn’t necessarily mind missing the midnight feedings this time around and skipping to fun toddler stage. Once they’d gotten past the trauma.

And as for the timing… “The timing wasn’t great with Nathan, either, but we made that work.” This was different, obviously. He would have moved mountains and breached contracts to make sure he got his son, but still. He looked back down at that little bruised face. “Okay.”

It took Chris a second to catch on. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Let me grab a shower, and then let’s go meet the case worker and see her...Mira, is it? She isn’t quite what we’d prepared for, but this could work. As long as you think Katie wouldn’t mind a few more at Hanukkah.”

Chris grinned. “I’m sure she could be convinced. And everyone could use another Bubbe.”

“Not to be confused with a Babbo.”

“We do employ multiple languages we don’t actually speak, don’t we?” Chris was excited. He’d been trying to put on a neutral front and not sway Zach too much, but now that Zach had expressed interest, Chris’ enthusiasm was obvious.

“Give me ten minutes to get cleaned up. Why don’t you call the caseworker? Tell her we’ll leave for the hospital soon and we should be there…” he calculated the likely traffic on a Friday afternoon. “Tell her a half hour to forty-five minutes. See if that works with her.”

“Great. That’s great. I’ll call her right now.”

Chris was already pulling the phone to his ear as Zach closed the door to the small bathroom. He stripped as the water warmed, grabbing the face cleanser and moisturizer. He normally went through a full facial regiment after a full week of filming, but he'd skip it tonight.

Getting under the hot water, Zach felt the excitement that always accompanied the possibility of adding another child to their family. Zach just hoped Chris wasn’t already in love with this kid. They’d been down that road a few times, and when they’d ultimately decided it wasn’t a good fit, either they or the kid had gone through a bout of grieving. He wasn’t worried about what their visit would do to the girl in terms of getting hopes up; she was already grieving in a way they couldn’t fathom. But Chris had gotten his hopes up a few times in the past, and it was hard to watch his disappointment when a caseworker decided they had a better situation for the child, or worse, he and Chris realized that there was no rapport between Nathan and the child they were considering, or that Nathan seemed actually intimidated by the older kids. He hoped that wouldn't be the case this time.

He quickly got dressed, opening the door to see Nathan putting a wrapped present in a paper bag.

“What’s that?”

“Nathan and I went shopping. Thought we’d bring Mira a little gift to break the ice and cheer her up.”

“Oh. Well that sounds like a good idea. What you pick out?” he asked Nathan.

“Books!” Nathan exclaimed, listing off several favorites. “ _Pajama Time_ and _Hey Wake Up_ and _Not the Hippopotamus_.”

“Basically a Sandra Boynton starter set,” Chris said, biting his lip. “Do you think it’s too much?”

“No,” Zach said, taking his hand. This was probably a sign that Chris was already too invested, but it was still a good idea. “That little girl has been through so much. Even if it turns out we can’t give her a home, we can certainly give her some board books.”

They made good time, entering the bright and colorful lobby with Nathan between them, holding their hands and asking for ‘one-two-three-jump’, a game that was better suited to the parking lot than the hushed tones of a hospital lobby. They were just getting Nathan to use his indoor voice when they were greeted by a frazzled woman in a blue blazer. If Zach hadn’t seen the county emblem on her name tag, he would have thought she was a realtor.

“I’m not sure this is going to work,” she said once they’d made it through introductions. “Mira cried all through the last meeting, and is still pretty on edge. I’m sorry. I thought she’d be calmer by now. Mrs. Cohen, her grandmother, is with her, trying to get her to relax, but as of ten minutes ago, she was still upset. It might be best if we postpone to tomorrow morning. I don’t want your first experience with her to be a bad one.” She grimaced, shrugging a little as she said, ”Of course, the sooner we can get her placed, the sooner she can adjust. I’m not sure what’s best.”

“How many people have come to see her?” Chris asked.

“Two couples so far. And Mrs.Cohen is still with her, but will have to leave soon. She’s tired and it’s been a long day.”

“A long couple of days, from the sounds of it,” Zach said, shifting a little closer to Chris to wrap an arm around his shoulders, keeping Nathan close with his other hand. He could almost feel the disappointment rolling off Chris. “Well, if you think it’s best for Mira that we come back tomorrow, of course we can do that. But we’ve brought something that might help. Nathan, why don’t you show the nice lady what we brought for Mira.”

Nathan reached into the bag Chris held out and pulled out the present. “It’s books,” he said, because at this age he was terrible at keeping a secret. “Is it time for her bedtime story?”

Monica smiled, considering. “You know, I think maybe it is.” Looking back at Zach she added, “We can try.”

“If she doesn’t respond to the books, we’ll try again in the morning. Don’t worry about our impression of her. I think we all expect her to be upset right now, and I don’t think a night spent alone in a hospital is likely to change that.”

Their steps echoed through the long, cheerfully decorated hallway. Bright shapes adorned the walls, and amongst the doors to surgeries and radiology were occasional glass doors opening on play rooms full of kids on oxygen and nurses in colorful scrubs. After several turns and a short trip in an elevator, they approached the hushed commotion of a nurses’ station. Zach picked Nathan up so he could see.

“I’m taking these two into room 34,” Monica told the nurse on duty. Despite the bright patterns on his scrubs and friendly stuffed bear clinging to the edge of his computer monitor, the nurse’s face was serious when he looked up, giving Chris and Zach a quick once over. Children’s high cries drifted from behind several of the closed doors in the ward, drawing the nurse’s eyes for a moment before they flicked back over to Zach.

“Visiting hours are over in thirty minutes,” he said, looking back at his computer screen. “Try not to upset her too much.”

“Well,” Chris murmured, inching closer to Zach as they followed Monica through the ward, “He’s chipper. I hope she’s getting better bedside manner than that.”

Zach had to agree, though he imagined the job was tough. He didn’t like treating Nathan for a skinned knee. He couldn’t imagine being surrounded by sick or injured kids and not having it affect your temperament by the end of the day, training and cheerful colors notwithstanding.

Monica opened the door, and Zach’s heart broke a little as he heard, “Mama?” before they cleared the doorjamb, followed by, “No, no, no,” as Mira saw them. “Bubbe.”

“I’m right here, darling girl. Don’t worry. Oh look, a friend for you! Isn’t that nice?” said an older woman with salt-and-pepper curly hair as she turned to the door and saw Nathan. “Do you want to make friends, Mira?”

The little girl shrank back in her pillow, but she stopped shaking her head when she saw Nathan, which Zach took as a good sign, despite the feeling that this was the most awkward playdate ever. Chris must have felt the same, because he jumped in with, “Nathan brought you a present, didn’t you, buddy?”

Nathan clung tighter to Zach, but held the gift up in offering.

Mira’s eyes widened and she leaned forward ever so slightly.

“Here, go with Babbo, Nathan,” Zach said, handing the boy over in the tight space available at the foot of the hospital bed. “He’ll get you close enough to give Mira her present.”

There was a bit of a shuffle as Nathan and the gift shifted to Chris and they squeezed into the left side of the bed, in front of the chair the grandmother was sitting in.

Mira tentatively reached out to Nathan’s hand, taking the wrapped present as Nathan said, “Do you like stories?”

Zach bit back a laugh at Nathan’s subtle line of questioning… better than blurting out it was books, at least. Mira was wide-eyed, glancing between the colorful gift and Nathan’s face, expression warring between curiosity and wariness.

Curiosity won out.

She wasn’t actually that much younger than Nathan, but her hands seemed much smaller as she tore at the paper, her expression transforming to delight as she uncovered the books. She turned to show them to her grandmother. “Potomus!”

“It _is_ a hippopotamus. Hiding behind a tree. Is it a good hiding spot?”

Mira lowered her chin and shook her head, almost shyly, a small smirk on her face exposing a deep dimple.

“She wants to play, but she’s shy,” Nathan said, sagely. “Babbo can read it if you want. He likes to read to me. He does really good voices. Even better than the library.”

“Now there’s a good idea,” the grandmother said, standing up as Chris raised a hand to wave off the suggestion. “I’m terrible with voices.”

“Bubbe?”

“I’m not leaving, dear girl; just getting out of the way. I’ll go stand with Mr.…” She looked at Zach.

“Quinto,” he supplied. He shifted as she and Chris traded places. “But please call me Zach. And that’s Chris Pine, and our son, Nathan.”

“Nathan John Pine Quinto,” Nathan said proudly.

The woman smiled at Nathan as she drew closer to Zach, who was watching Mira eye her grandmother’s retreat carefully, lower lip protruding dangerously. “Nice to meet you gentlemen. I’m Leah Cohen, and this is my granddaughter, Miriam.”

Mira’s attention had switched to Chris, who had taken the seat and sat Nathan on the edge of the bed so he could read to the two kids at the same time careful not to jostle Mira’s casts. Mira’s eyes darted from Chris and Nathan back to Leah. The girl seemed smaller and fairer than in her picture, her curls light brown and her complexion pale, though the last could have have been shock. Her eyes, though, were just as large and brown in person, wide and watery. “Uh-uh, I know that look,” Zach muttered.

“I’m right here, dear girl. What’s happening with the book?”

Mira’s attention shifted back to Chris, who was holding up the cover of the book, reading the title with hushed enthusiasm.

“Her name is Miriam?” Zach asked quietly, leaning into Leah. He hadn’t realized Mira was a nickname.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “It was shortened to Miri, but when Silvia started speaking Spanish with her, ‘mira!’ became a favorite word, and then her way of referring to herself, and it was close enough that it stuck.”

Zach snorted softly. “It’s funny how those things happen. I think Chris moped for a week when Nathan started pronouncing his own name properly and stopped referring to himself in the third person.”

Leah chuckled as they both watched Chris animatedly recite, “A hog and a frog cavort in the bog,” only to have Nathan blurt the next line, “But not the hippopotamus!”

Chris nodded and turned the page as Miri looked back and forth between Nathan and the book. “A moose and a goose together have juice…”

“But not the hippopotamus!” said Nathan gleefully.

By the time the wall-flower hippo was convinced by the animal pack to join them all at the fair, Mira had the pattern down, looking back and forth between Chris and Nathan, her face twisting in delight as Chris and Nathan said the final line together, “But not the armadillo.”

Her hands came together, not in claps, but fingertips meeting again and again.

“She’d like it again,” Leah translated. “Rachel and Silvia taught her baby sign language: that’s the sign for _more_.”

“What about _Pajama Time_ ,” Nathan suggested.

Mira reached for the picture of the hippo and signed _more_ again.

“Hey, Nathan,” Chris said. “Remember when you were little, you liked to have the same story over and over until you knew it well? Maybe Mira's the same way. Why don’t we read it again. We can get to _Pajama Time_ another time.”

Nathan’s eyebrows furrowed in an expression Zach knew mirrored his own when he was thinking. Zach bit his lip and looked sideways at Leah, who was watching Nathan with a small smile.

“Okay,” Nathan said, nodding and turning the book back to the first page. “If Mira wants it, we can read it again."

And they did, two more times, Zach and Leah watching on as Mira now anticipated the story, turning to Nathan before he even spoke his lines. They were about to start again when a nurse came in, going to the right side of Miri’s bed, checking her casts. Mira drew back from her, in the direction of Chris and Nathan.

“No, no—”

“What are you going to do to her?” Nathan demanded in an imperious voice.

The nurse leaned back, raising an eyebrow and glancing at the adults in the room before addressing Nathan. “I need to check her temperature. I’m going to put this,” she raised an instrument, “in her ear.”

“You aren’t going to give her a shot are you?” Nathan accused.

“No, sir,” the nurse said, pausing as if for permission.

Nathan looked at Zach.

“It shouldn’t hurt as long as she doesn’t move,” Zach offered.

“Mira, hold real still,” Nathan said, turning back to her. "It’s not a shot. I’ll hold your hand if you want. Don’t be scared.”

Mira’s lip was back out and her eyes were on her grandmother, but her hand reached out for Nathan’s.

“He’s very protective, isn’t he?” Leah asked in a hushed tone, leaning toward Zach.

“He gets it from Chris. They both want to save the world.”

“How long have you had him?”

Zach looked at her. “Nathan’s mine… biologically, I mean. We’ve had him almost since he was born.”

“Surrogacy?”

“Ah, not exactly.” Zach paused, torn between his and Chris’ privacy and the knowledge that if Leah were considering placing her granddaughter with them, she deserved open honesty. “It’s sort of a convoluted story. Suffice it to say, Chris and I did almost everything backwards. When I found out I was a father, Chris came out to help me. When it became clear how much work it was and how overwhelmed I was, he invited us to move in with him until I had things sorted. Nathan and I never moved out. Somewhere in those three a.m. feedings, Chris and I fell in love. Or maybe we’d been in love for years and hadn’t acknowledged it. But we’re solid now. Got married around the time Nathan turned two.”

“How long have you been looking to adopt?”

“A little over a year. We considered surrogacy — thought it might be nice to have a child that was biologically Chris’. But Chris was with me the day I met Nathan and has _always_ felt a connection with him. He said he’d rather give a home to a kid who needed one than worry about his genes. We tried with the County first and looked at a lot of kids. We nearly adopted a 13-year-old named Bianca. She was great, and Chris was totally smitten.” Zach sighed. “Nathan was intimidated by her, though — just anyone so old. We decided we couldn’t bring a teenager into the house. It was sort of heartbreaking. We have tried to help her in other ways, but I know she was disappointed.”

“Other ways?”

Zach shrugged. “Mostly helping in charity functions for the County’s program, but when Bianca’s foster family couldn’t afford a special camp for her, we stepped in and paid for it.”

“A theater camp? You’re both actors, right?”

“We are,” Zach answered, “but Bianca’s a computer genius through and through. She qualified for a camp that only twenty kids get into. And it all worked out for the best. She was adopted about nine months ago and is really happy. After that we started with Vista.”

“They specialize in babies,” Leah said quietly, continuing to watch Nathan comfort Mira as the nurse took her blood pressure.

“They do,” Zach acknowledged. “That seemed easiest in the long run. We know what to do with an infant, and people who give up infants generally don’t try to get them back, which happens sometimes with older kids. Oh,” he said, reaching out to touch Leah’s arm, “but we wouldn’t be here if we weren’t seriously considering Mira. It’s not so much that we want another baby as that we don’t really want someone older than Nathan, and it seems that the County usually has kids already in school.”

“Hmmm.” Leah looked thoughtfully up at Zach. “Well in the spirit of candor, I should tell you that you also probably wouldn’t be here if Monica hadn’t told me about your charity work. A pair of actors doesn’t impress me. A couple who goes out of their way to help those less fortunate does. Monica said you work with gay youth?”

Zach nodded and crossed his arms. “We both do a fair amount of charity work, but that’s my passion. When I came out, I got a lot of letters from young people who were miserable because they weren’t accepted by their families, who said my being open and honest had given them...something. They felt supported, could draw more easily on their own strength. It made me realize I needed to stay active.”

“And if Mira or Nathan were gay?”

Zach looked shocked at the question. “We’d totally support them. I’m gay and Chris is bi, and both our siblings are straight. We’re a diverse family in that regard.”

Leah’s brow furrowed. “But you said Nathan was yours…”

Zach snorted. “I’m gay with one drunken exception with a girl I’d crushed on before I’d figured myself out.” Leah’s eyes gleamed with humor. “We’re still friends, actually. She didn’t have her act together when Nathan was born, but she’s better now. Married with a child on the way. We send her updates every Christmas.”

They watched on in silence as Nathan chattered away and Mira relaxed slightly, even as the nurse continued to check her vitals.

“It almost seems unfair,” Leah said quietly. Zach raised a confused eyebrow. “So many couples are wanting a child, and you already have one.”

Zach felt as if the air had been knocked out of him. They weren’t going to get her. He hadn’t even thought he’d _wanted_ her when they’d first arrived, but after watching Nathan sit on her hospital bed and hold her hand and talk her through the scary parts of the nurse’s visit it seemed like fate. Zach swallowed thickly, willing away the bereft feeling in his chest.

“Maybe it seems selfish,” he answered quietly. “We just want Nathan to have a normal childhood, and both Chris and I grew up with siblings. That’s what feels normal to us. Someone to commiserate with when the grownups seem unreasonable.” Leah flashed him a small smile. “But I know only children are more common now. And it’s not like we aren’t grateful every day to have Nathan or feel that somehow our lives won’t be complete without another child. It just seems like they’d be better, for us and for Nathan, and hopefully for whomever we adopt.”

“I had a brother,” Leah replied, “but he died in the war. Rachel always wished she had aunts and uncles and a sister. Silvia came from a huge family but they weren’t in touch.” She crossed her arms over her chest, looking suddenly very small and vulnerable. “How am I supposed to decide? My baby girl is dead and her only daughter needs a home, and I meet people and...maybe they would love her. Maybe they would. And give her a good home. But my heart just keeps weeping that it won’t be Rachel raising her. Mira’s so little, she won’t even remember my daughter, or where she came from. She won’t remember any of it.”

Zach tentatively reached out and was relieved when Leah allowed him to drape an arm over her shoulders in a loose hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine what you’re going through or the decision you have to make. My only advice is to take your time and do what feels right. And there are ways to make sure your daughter won’t be forgotten. I lost my dad when I was young… not _this_ young, but young enough. I have some memories of him, but I also have all these stories that my mom gave me, that I now tell Nathan. And Nathan’s never met Chris’ grandparent’s but he knows their stories because he hears them every Hanukkah, and at Yom Kippur when Chris’ sister uses his grandmother’s recipes. And he knows those stories — probably the way he knows stories in his books — but he _knows_ them, and he knows they’re important. And it’s not the same,” he said as tears traced lines on Leah’s face. “It’s not the same as having the person there, but it’s something.”

“Bubbe?”

Leah and Zach looked up to see Mira and the others looking at them.

“I’m fine, dear girl. Were you brave for all your tests?” she asked, wiping her cheeks.

Mira nodded and Nathan added, “She held real still when she was supposed to. She should probably get a lollipop. I know,” he said, turning to Chris, “Let’s read _Pajama Time_ now. It’s getting dark outside. It can be her bedtime story.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at Zach, obviously concerned with the tears.

Zach nodded subtly and mouthed, _It’s okay_.

“Mira, would you like another story?” Chris asked, turning back to her after nodding to Zach. He was sure they’d compare notes later, and Chris would want to hear everything he and Leah had discussed, but it could wait until they were home and had a bottle of wine open.

Once the new story had the kids’ attention diverted, Leah asked, “Would you do that?”

“Do what?” Zach asked, watching as Nathan and Mira continued to hold hands through the story.

“Tell Mira stories about Rachel and Silvia?”

Zach’s full attention was back on Leah. “Of course we would. Chris and I are both actors; storytelling is a way of life for us, and the true ones are the most important.” He paused for a moment, not wanting her decision to be based on that alone. “But I’m sure anyone would, if you asked them.”

“I don’t know,” she said through a sniff, grabbing a tissue from the desk behind her. “Most people seem to want a clean slate on which to impose their own traditions and stories. Which is natural, I suppose.”

Zach considered. “With an infant, certainly, but not in a case like this. Mira’s going to be asking about her mothers for a while, and you’re part of the deal, as I understand it. Pretending this is anything other than a blended family situation seems self-defeating.”

“Perhaps. I figure most people would just wait for me to get too old to care.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. That’s quite fatalistic of me. I’m not generally like that. Mira and I are generally quite happy, but…”

“It’s hard to not assume the worst after what you’ve been through the last few days.” Zach paused, glancing at Monica standing in the corner trying to be unobtrusive. He wondered if she was always so hands off, or if she saw how Zach and Leah had developed a quick rapport and decided not to try to fix what wasn’t broken. He looked at the trio on the bed, starting the book again, Mira looking… well if not happy, then certainly not sad, which was something considering where they’d started from. He wished he could freeze this moment and confer with Chris before he said anything else to Leah. He just hoped his instincts were right.

“Look,” he said, turning away from his family and toward Leah. “What I said before is the truth; you need to do what you think is best for Mira...what feels right. From a self-interested standpoint, I really want you to choose us, but if you’d feel more comfortable with her as an only child like she was before, that’s understandable. If we decide to do this, we’d welcome you into our lives, include you in the family celebrations — Hanukkah and Christmas too, if you don’t mind it. But other couples might do that as well. And things with us would be a little complicated at times. Chris and I both film on location sometimes, and when we do, the other clears his schedule and rents a place on location and comes out for weeks or months at a time, to keep the family together. We try to make sure we aren’t shooting at the same time, and we try to take one film a year that shoots locally, but there’s still travel most years. So, we’d occasionally want to take her out of the country, and I don’t know how you’d feel about that. We wouldn’t want to leave her behind, though. If we got her, she’d go everywhere Nathan goes.”

“Would you want to do that soon,” Leah asked, eyes wide. This was obviously not something she’d considered.

Zach shook his head. “I’m shooting in L.A. right now. Chris’ next project will also have a lot of soundstage work here in L.A., but he’ll be in British Columbia a few weeks. We haven’t decided yet if Nathan and I will go up with him or he’ll come home weekends. But I’m up for a role that will be filming in Europe in the spring, and if I get it, we’d certainly want to take her with us then.”

Leah bit her lip, watching Mira and Nathan together. “You’d really consider adopting her? I know you were waiting for a baby.”

“I’m much more concerned with finding someone who’s a good match for our family, and that’s actually easier to determine once they’re a little older and have some personality.”

Leah nodded. “And Chris?”

Zach huffed a laugh. “If I know my husband — and I do — he’s totally smitten and working on arguments to convince me. We have to talk, of course. He might be seeing some dynamic between the kids that you and I can’t see from here. But I know that he’s not set on having another infant. And of course, I’ll have to talk with Nathan...”

“Of course.” She wiped her hand over her face. “And I’ll have to try to talk with Miriam, though I don’t think she’s really capable of understanding what’s happening. And Monica has set up two other couples to meet her first thing in the morning. And there are other couples who have asked to meet her, apparently.” She shook her head. “You tell me to take my time, but she says that if I don’t decide before Mira has to be discharged, she’ll go to a foster home while I come to a decision. I don’t want to disrupt her life any more than I have to; it’s already been devastated.”

Zach squeezed her shoulder again. “When Nathan was born, I had to make all these life-altering decisions in almost no time at all. I don’t understand much of what you’re dealing with, but I do understand _that._ It feels like being on the downslope of a rollercoaster, and you can’t see what’s coming.”

Leah nodded. “How did you do it?”

Zach considered. “It was different for me. He was my son. Sacrificing a relationship with someone who didn’t want a family, flying out on a day’s notice to meet with the lawyers — in the end those weren’t really choices at all. I knew what I had to do, though I admit, it was a bit easier to feel good about it when I called my best friend at three in the morning, and not only did he tell me I wasn’t crazy, but he said he was flying out to be there with me.”

Leah huffed a laugh, even as she wiped tears away from her eyes. “Thank you. You’re very kind not to pressure me. I’m not sure I could do the same in your shoes.”

“Well, if we’re going to be spending time together as family, I certainly wouldn’t want you to be regretting your decision the whole time That doesn’t sound healthy for anyone.”

Leah opened her mouth to say something when the nurse came back in. “I’m sorry, visiting hours are up. I’m going to have to ask you to say goodbye so Miriam can get some rest.”

Mira looked alarmed, “No no no. Bubbe!”

“I’ll stay for a minute, dear girl. But say goodbye to Nathan.”

“No. No,” she said, grasping at Nathan’s hand.

“We’ll visit again, Mira,” Nathan said, making Zach cringe at the inadvertent lie. He had no idea if they’d be asked back.

“Come on, buddy,” Chris said, scooping Nathan up and giving Zach a look that said he’d caught the mistake, too. “Tell Mira it was nice to meet her, and that you hope she enjoys the stories.” He backed away as Nathan repeated the farewell. As they approached Leah and Zach, he said, “It was nice to meet you Leah. I’m very sorry for your loss, and appreciate you letting us visit Mira during such a difficult time. She’s a great kid, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Leah nodded and smiled, but seemed too overwhelmed to say anymore.

“Okay, we’re going. Monica, we’ll talk to you soon, we hope,” Zach said, ushering Chris and Nathan out the door as Mira became more vocal.

“No, No! Bubbe! No! Nate no go. Nate no go!!” The last word was muffled by the closing door.

“Daddy, we have to go back. Mira is really sad!”

“I know. But we have to go now. Hospitals don’t let visitors stay all night.” Although Zach had noticed a built in bed under the window. He wondered if that was standard in the children’s rooms.

“But she’s sad. And scared! And what if a nurse comes and give her a shot and no one holds her hand?”

They could still hear Mira crying over their clicking footfalls on the linoleum floor.

“We have to go back!” Nathan whined. “I want to stay with Mira.” And suddenly it was too much, and Nathan was sobbing. _Loudly._

Zach steered them to a bank of plastic chairs against the wall and motioned for Chris to pass Nathan over. They sat with Nathan straddling Zach’s lap, his face buried against Zach’s neck. He rubbed Nathan’s back and looked at Chris, who was also visibly distraught, reaching out to comfort Nathan as well.

“What did you think?” Zach asked quietly.

“About Mira?” Zach nodded. “Well,” Chris continued, “she likes my reading and has your eyes, what’s not to love? And did you see how she and Nathan have already bonded?” Chris ran his fingers over Nathan's hair, try to soothe him. “I really like her, Zach. And I feel so bad for her. Nathan’s right; she’s really scared. If I thought we could, I’d take her home right now so she wouldn’t have to be alone overnight in this place. Not that they don’t work to make it seem cheerful,” he said, motioning to the brightly colored shapes on the walls and posters of stars supporting the Children’s Miracle Network. “But it’s still a hospital, with all the strange noises and lights and people. It’s gotta be scary.”

Zach nodded. The night nurse seemed friendly enough, but he remembered Nathan being pretty scared of strangers at that age.

“What about you?” Chris asked. “You didn’t really talk to her.”

Zach shrugged. “I could see how you and Nathan were hitting it off with her. I can’t imagine I’d be any different. It feels good. And I like Leah; she’s refreshingly... _direct_. I think I could see them both fitting into our family.”

“Did you get any sense about what Leah thought? Is she considering us? There were two before us, right?”

“And two more coming tomorrow morning, apparently. And more in the wings.” Zach thought about it, soothing Nathan for a moment before answering. “I think so, but she’s torn. She doesn’t want her daughter forgotten. I told her that we tell Nathan stories about my dad and your grandparents, and told her we’d be happy to do the same if she told us stories about Rachel and Silvia. That seemed to work in our favor. But she also said that there are a lot of couples who have no children, and it seemed unfair to consider us.”

Chris looked crestfallen. “Well, on the other hand, we’re experienced. We know how to behave around kids. Not everyone who wants them is actually good with children.”

“I didn’t want to overstate our case or pressure her. You and Nathan were doing a fantastic job of showing how we’d interact with Mira. I think she was pleased seeing that. She’s just really overwhelmed.”

“Understandable.”

Mira’s cries reached a crescendo, and Nathan looked up and then threw his head back as if he were in physical pain.

“Hey, Nathan?” Zach asked quietly. Nathan didn’t hear him over the sobs. “Nathan, buddy, I have to ask you something. Can you calm down enough to talk to me?”

Nathan shook his head and buried his face in Zach’s neck again, and Zach held him tightly. A moment later, though, he grew quiet enough for Zach to try again.

“Nathan? I have to ask you something really important, okay?”

Nathan sat up, rubbing an eye hard and taking a shuddering breath as he nodded.

“I don’t know if we’ll get the chance, so I’m not promising anything, but if they do ask us, would you like Mira to come live with us and be your sister?”

“Yeah,” he said weakly.

“You’d have to share your toys and be nice to her even when she cries. And she’ll be sad for a while, because both of her mommies are dead, and she can’t walk because of the casts. It will probably be hard for a little while. And her grandma would visit us a lot, too.”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah,” Zach answered, rubbing Nathan’s cheek with his thumb. “I like her.”

Nathan’s small chest heaved shakily for several moments. “Okay. She can come, too.”

Zach pulled him against his chest. “Good boy,” he said into Nathan’s hair. Chris wrapped arms around them both, and they sat there a moment, Nathan slowly recovering. They would need to leave soon. Get on with their evening, distract themselves from the fact that their lives might be changing significantly over the next day or two, and they probably wouldn’t get any more input. They’d made their decision. Now they had to wait for Leah to make hers.

“We could write a letter,” Chris said quietly, as if he could read Zach’s thoughts. “People do it when they want a house; this is way more important.”

“Maybe,” Zach agreed. “She thanked me for not pressuring her, though.”

“Right,” Chris said with a sigh. Zach leaned over and kissed him on the temple. Chris was usually the more patient of the two of them… trusting the universe to pay back his positive attitude and kindness. It wasn’t like him to want to push things.

“So what should we do with the rest of the evening?” he asked, finally, wanting to pull his boys out of their brooding. “It’s too late to _make_ pizza, but we could go to Stella Barra on the way home. What do you say, Nathan? Sausage pizza and a side of crispy brussel sprouts?”

Nathan shook his head against Zach’s chest. “Side of ‘tato chips,” came the muffled counteroffer.

Zach bit back a smile and looked at Chris.

“How about both?” Chris suggested. “We need some veggies, I think, but it also seems like a house-made potato chip kind of night.”

Nathan nodded, his face still hidden against Zach’s chest.

“It’s a good plan,” Zach said, standing with Nathan in his arms, expecting Chris to follow. But Chris startled and dug his phone out of his pocket.

“It’s Monica,” he said, voice far too hopeful. “Oh. She’s just thanking us for coming. Says they’ll be in touch.”

That almost sounded like a studio brush off after a bad audition, and from the way Chris’ face fell, he was thinking something along the same lines.

“Do you think Mrs. Cohen’s going to stay with her tonight?” Chris asked. “That bed under the window, it didn’t look like it was for a patient.”

“I don’t know,” Zach said, turning to head toward the lobby. “I hope she’s not alone.”

Chris bit his lip as he followed. “Yeah. I mean, I’m pretty impressed with this place — they obviously try to make the environment cheerful — but there are still strange lights and noises and kids crying…”

He didn’t need to say more. Zach couldn’t imagine leaving Nathan with strangers overnight if he were as scared as Mira. But it wasn’t their place to even ask.

It was a quiet drive to the pizza parlor, Zach driving while Chris texted their contact at Vista to tell him how the initial meeting had gone, at least from their perspectives. They decided to get the food to go, the restaurant being almost oppressively loud with exuberant patrons celebrating a Friday evening together. They retreated to their quiet home, where Nathan finally roused himself.

“We should bring her dvds,” Nathan said as he lifted his pizza. “There was a player in her T.V. She’s too little to read books by herself, but she’d like Gustafer videos.”

Chris and Zach shared a look.

“That’s...very generous of you,” Zach said. “It’s just that… I’m very proud you want to help her, but you know we might not get to see her again. We have to wait and see if we’re invited back.”

Nathan furrowed his brow. “We might not see her again?”

“I hope we will,” Zach assured him. “But there are other people who want her in their family, too.”

“Not even for a play date?” Nathan asked incredulously.

Chris caught Zach’s eye before answering, “Let’s just take it one day at a time, okay? Let’s be happy we got to meet her, and hope that she finds a nice family — hopefully ours — but if not, somewhere she’ll be loved and taken care of. That’s the most important thing.”

Both Nathan and Chris looked absolutely bleak. The silence stretched on. “What should we do tonight?” Zach asked with forced enthusiasm. “There’s still an hour or two before bedtime. Should we watch a movie? Play HiHo! Cherry-O?”

The evening moved on to games and bathtime and bedtime. Once Nathan was down, Chris and Zach opened some wine and talked more about the visit, pulled together their documentation from Vista, just in case. Chris was reserved through the whole conversation. Not unenthusiastic; he made it clear that he wanted to go for it, accept Mira if they were offered her. But he was strangely reticent. Or maybe just tired.

They turned in early, but Zach woke at one to find the other side of the bed empty and cold.

He found Chris down the hall, in the extra room housing Nathan’s old crib, sitting in the rocking chair and speaking softly into his phone: “— and I’ll come down dressed up as Steve Trevor or Captain Kirk or whoever they think the kids would like. So, check into it please. And let me know.”

He hung up and placed the phone against his lips thoughtfully, startled to see Zach leaning against the door jamb. He looked sheepish.

“Sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Hmmm,” Zach hummed, approaching slowly and reaching out to run his fingers through Chris’ hair. “Melissa often take your calls in the middle of the night?” Zach asked quietly.

“No,” Chris said, “but she’s used to me leaving messages. Did you see those posters in the hospital? The Children’s Miracle Network? That’s something I should be supporting. Even if we don’t get Mira… that hospital is in our back yard. I read about it after you fell asleep. They do so much, and here in LA they bring stars in to entertain the kids. It’s the least I can do. I’m adding it to mine.”

His causes, Zach translated internally. They had several in common, but a few they focused on separately. And Zach wasn’t surprised that the hospital had drawn Chris in. And even though Chris would never admit it, he’d see it as feeding their karma or energy in the universe or whatever. Chris would support the hospital in hopes that somehow that would tip scales toward giving them Mira.

“Good idea,” Zach said. “And a good cause.” He stroked Chris’ hair, watching as Chris closed his eyes and leaned into Zach’s hand. “Probably could have waited until morning,” Zach suggested.

Chris snorted softly. “Maybe,” he agreed. He sighed and looked up at Zach.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” Chris said quietly.

“Do what, baby?” Zach asked, stomach suddenly cold.

“Wait. If this doesn’t work. If… if Mira goes to another couple, I think I want to withdraw from Vista. I can’t…” Chris stopped for a moment. “I want her. I want her _so badly_. She has _your_ _eyes_ , Zach.” Chris’s face looked wild. “And if we don’t get her, I just can’t. I can’t try again.”

Zach pulled him up and into his arms. “Okay. Okay.” Chris clung to him. “We’ll pull out if we don’t get her. But I think we’re going to. I think she’s going to be ours.”

“What makes you say that?” Chris whispered into Zach’s neck. “I thought you said Leah was torn. Did you remember something else?”

Zach shook his head. “Nothing so logical.” He squeezed Chris tightly. “It’ll make you laugh.”

“What?”

Zach shook his head ruefully. “Did you catch her name? Not her nickname.”

“Miriam?” Chris asked, pulling back a bit to see Zach’s face.

Zach nodded. “It’s biblical. Like Zachary, and Nathan. And Joe.”

Understanding dawned in Chris’s expression before he seemed to shut it down. “It’s a different bible,” he challenged.

Zach shrugged. He wasn’t going to try to argue for the logic of his superstition.

“You think it’s a sign,” Chris said, fondness and incredulity coloring his tone.

“I think it’s a sign,” he acknowledged, knowing full well it sounded ridiculous and naively hopeful. But Chris offered no scorn. He just huffed a laugh as he gazed around the room — the room Mira would have if she came — eyes bright for the first time since Zach had agreed to go to the hospital.

“Okay,” Chris said, as if playing along. “It’s a sign.”

Zach squeezed him, looking around the room, wondering what changes Mira would want to make.

“Come on,” he said, leading Chris out of the room and shutting off the light. “Let’s go to bed.”

“I’m really not sure I can sleep,” Chris whispered as they passed Nathan’s door.

“Who said anything about sleep?” Zach asked, waggling his eyebrows.

 

* * *

 

It was just after a clear dawn that Nathan woke them to announce excitedly that it was time to get up.

Zach groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Is it Christmas morning?” he croaked.

“Hmmm.” Chris shook his head, eyes still closed.

“Why is he so excited when we’ve had so little sleep?”

“No idea,” Chris mumbled.

“You have a text, Babbo!” Nathan said.

“Who’s it from?” Zach asked, burying under the blankets and hiding his face in the pillow.

“I can’t read, silly.”

He felt Chris roll away and pause. “It’s just Auntie Katie wond’ring if we’re coming for dinner next weekend,” he said, flopping onto his back.

“Oh.” The disappointment was palpable in Nathan’s voice.

“Buddy?” Zach asked, squinting at Nathan and then the clock. Six-fifteen. Jesus. They _really_ needed to teach him his numbers and enforce a “not before seven” rule.

“I thought it was the hospital.”

Oh. Zach rubbed a hand down his face. “You wanna get into bed with us and snuggle before we get up. Babbo and I are still sleepy.”

“No. I’ll just color until you get up. Can we make pancakes?”

“You got it.”

They couldn’t sleep, though, and they couldn’t return to the activities that had finally driven them to exhaustion the night before — not when Nathan was awake in a quiet house. So they untangled themselves from the sheets and padded into the living room in sleep pants and t-shirts to find Nathan drawing a picture of a curly-haired stick figure with pink casts standing (yes… standing) by a house. Chris gave it one look and muttered “coffee” before disappearing into the kitchen. Zach followed a moment later, telling Nathan to join them when it was finished.

They were quietly slicing bananas and mixing the batter when Nathan came in and stuck his picture up on the magnet board next to his other art. He’d added himself, and the stick figures were holding hands. Because of course they were. Chris glanced at it and sucked a breath, turning rapidly back to the griddle.

It felt like a jinx.

And it felt like waiting around all day would make this the longest day of his life. And Zach had had some long fucking days. He looked at the clock. It was just past 6:30 — far too early considering the long wait they had in front of them. He started casting about for things to do. Normally Saturdays were for laundry and the Silver Lake Farmer’s Market, but that didn’t seem nearly distracting enough. Maybe they could grab a movie, or call Chris’ folks and head over for some family time. Or a trip to the beach.

“Can I have chocolate chips on mine too?” Nathan asked, climbing up on a bar stool so he could watch Chris cook. “And whipped cream? In a face like at Disneyland?”

“Do you want ears like Mickey or a pointy head like Gustafer?” Chris asked, a scoop of batter poised over the griddle.

Nathan cocked his head, mulling over that decision. Chris grinned at Zach as he waited.

“Mickey,” he finally said. Chris poured the batter out in the traditional shape and went searching for the extra-large spatula.

Zach got the rest of their breakfast out of the fridge — orange juice and milk and the chicken breakfast sausages that would likely be their only protein in this carb fest — and he froze.

“You okay?” Chris asked, noticing Zach’s abrupt lack of activity.

“Yeah,” he said, turning to set everything on the counter. He grabbed a pan to heat the sausages and glanced at the clock. “I was just thinking, we should do something special today. Something that we can only do when we have all day free and we get up really early.”

“Like what?” Chris asked, flipping the over-sized pancake. Zach really didn’t want to blurt it out without talking to Chris in private, because once the idea was planted in Nathan’s head, backing out would be just about impossible. He gave the pancake a meaningful look and then raised his eyebrows and Chris...

...who looked totally confused.

“I don’t know,” Zach tried. “Let’s find a _happy place,_ full of _fantasy_ and _adventure_ and new _frontiers._ ”

Chris looked at him quizzically.

“And, um, visions of _tomorrow_ ,” he continued, trying to remember the names of all the parts of the park after only a half cup of coffee. “And maybe see some _pirates_? Caribbean ones?”

“Oh!” Chris said, eyes wide with understanding. “You want,” and he motioned to the pancake with the spatula before flipping it onto a plate. He quickly made a face using banana slices, chocolate chips and whipped cream as Nathan watched with rapt attention. “You sure? It’ll be crowded.”

Zach shrugged, glancing at Nathan who was thankfully barely listening as he poured his syrup. “Our passes expire this month, and we’ve barely used them. And if we hurry we can get there by opening and be done with the critical rides by noon. Then we can just sit in New Orleans Square and eat beignets as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, you love it. And so does Nathan.”

“And you?”

“I love being there with you.”

“What are you talking about?” Nathan asked through a mouthful of pancake.

Chris raised his eyebrows at Zach, and when he nodded said, ”Daddy thinks maybe we should go to Disneyland today, but I don’t think you like it there.”

“I like it!” Nathan cried, fork frozen midair with his next bite of pancake. “I like it a lot. Oh! Can I wear my Jedi robes and try to fight Darth Vader?”

“Sure,” Zach said. “And I can dress up like Mr. Spock.”

“Daddy! That’s Star _Trek,_ not Star _Wars_.”

“Oh, right. I always get those two confused.”

They made it to the park by opening, Nathan with his jedi robes over shorts and a t-shirt, Chris and Zach in more traditional garb topped off with dark glasses. They brought the jogging stroller, both for later in the day when Nathan finally crashed, and because it was the perfect spot to store water bottles and jackets and any purchases they made. Which, if history were any indication, could be substantial.

Fantasyland was first on the list, because as painful as it was to wait twenty minutes for Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, by afternoon the wait would be an hour, and that would be ridiculous. A few fellow parents gave them brief looks of recognition while standing in line together, but everyone seemed much more interested in the reactions of their kids than spotting a couple of Hollywood types who were also in parent mode. That being said, he'd be unsurprised to find pictures of their outing on the internet later.

They went on every ride once, and the tea cups three times, and by eleven Zach was thinking that Nathan, at least, was completely distracted.  Even if Zach and Chris kept checking their phones, painfully aware that Mira was in the process of being visited by other couples. But as they came out of Peter Pan’s Flight for the second time to find Sleeping Beauty signing autographs by Excalibur, Nathan asked, “Do you think Mira likes princesses or fairies better?”

“I don’t know,” Zach answered after a beat, taking his hand and leading him past the giant whale that led to storybook land. “She’s pretty little. _She_ might not even know yet. And maybe she’s like you and likes Jedis better than either one. Rey is pretty awesome.”

“Yeah,” Nathan agreed, chewing his lip.

They made their way over to It’s a Small World, the cheerful music and singing dolls somehow in contrast to the anxiety they were all hiding. StarTours engaged them completely again, with Nathan explaining references to every movie, because that’s what a geek he was. But then the ride dumped them into the gift shop, and though Nathan entertained himself creating mini droids for a while, his eyes kept drifting to a plush doll of Rey.

“Can we get Mira a Rey doll?” he asked before they exited the shop.

Zach knelt down next to him. “We still don’t know if we’re going to get to see her again. You can get a Rey doll if you want, but I think...I think it’s probably better if we hold off getting anymore gifts for Mira until we know whether we get to see her again.”

“We could mail it to her.”

“Maybe,” Zach said. “But let’s just see for now. It’d be more fun to give it to her in person. Now, are you hungry? I’m thinking it’s lunch time.”

They stopped for lunch at the Galactic Grill and ate their chicken sandwiches while watching young newly-minted padawans fight Darth Vader and Darth Maul. Then they had to decide where to go next: stay in Tomorrowland and shoot lasers at Zurg or go across the park to Jungle Cruise and Pirates. But before they could do either of those things, Nathan had to use the restroom.

They left Chris watching their stuff and made their way over to the castle again, passing the princess shop on the way to the men's room. Nathan didn’t say anything, but Zach noticed his gaze track the window display as they passed. When they finally made their way back, Chris was still sitting on the bench where they’d left him, face in his hands.

“Baby?” Zach asked, rushing the last few steps to close the distance. “What happened?”

Chris looked up, eyes brimming with tears, and lunged into Zach’s arms, burying his face in his neck. Zach wrapped his arms around Chris’ back automatically.

“What happened?” he asked again, glancing down at Nathan who was watching them wide-eyed. He swallowed thickly, almost afraid to ask. “Did Monica call?”

Chris nodded and said something against Zach’s neck.

“I can’t under—”

“We got her,” Chris said, pulling away enough that Zach could see he was smiling through his tears. “We got her, and they’re in touch with Vista and have our Home Study already and are drawing up emergency fostering papers so we can take her home when she’s discharged. And if we sign them this afternoon, one of us can stay in the hospital with her tonight.”

“Oh my god...we got her.” Zach clutched at Chris, laughing incredulously. He’d been so prepared for the opposite news that he couldn’t quite believe it.

“We got her,” Chris said, face absolutely glowing with happiness. “Miriam is going to be in our family.”

Zach wiped his eyes to clear his blurred vision and turned to Nathan, scooping him up so he could share in the family hug. “Did you hear that, Nathan? You’re going to be a big brother.”

Nathan wrapped his arms around both their necks, and Zach heard cameras going off, but he just couldn't care less. Let them post pictures of them weeping with joy in the happiest place on earth. It felt fitting.

“ _Now_ can we get her a Rey doll? And Belle, in case she likes princesses after all.”

Chris choked out a laugh. “Why Belle?’

Nathan looked at them with furrowed brows. “Because she likes books and has brown hair,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Chris squeezed him. “You're absolutely right. Let's go get them. _And_ the “Big Brother” t-shirt we saw on Main Street. Would you like that?”

He nodded. “And then we’ll see her?”

“Yup,” Zach answered. “We’ll head straight over and stay ‘til they kick us out.”

In the years that followed, they celebrated three family holidays, in addition to usual ones. New Year's Day was their wedding anniversary, and they often dropped the kids at Chris’ folks and spent the day as a couple. But they also celebrated the day Chris climbed on a plane in the wee hours of a bleary morning and joined Zach at the hospital to meet Nathan for the first time. And they celebrated the day they were caught in phone-photos by fans clinging to each other and crying tears of joy in a crowded Tomorrowland, where they learned the future shape of their family.

And _that_ day was always celebrated with a trip to Disneyland, sometimes with three grandmothers in tow.

-fin-

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long time ago, someone sent me a picture of a man who looked remarkably like Chris pushing a double stroller in Disneyland. I looked everywhere for it (I'm pretty sure it came in a comment), but couldn't find it. But I still wanted to thank that person, as the memory of that picture helped this epilogue come together. I wish I could find it...I would have made it part of a moodboard.
> 
> I also wanted to share a moodboard I created on tumblr for the first half of this chapter: https://ato-the-bean.tumblr.com/post/163676131065/ato-the-bean-picspiration-for-cleaving-chapter
> 
> Thanks again to all of you who took this journey with me. Though I'll miss them, this is officially the last thing I write for Bleary!verse (and I mean it this time, dammit!). You all officially have my permission to imagine the rest of their journey without me. 
> 
> Many thanks. Ato


End file.
